


if it's time to go, why do you want to stay?

by lumoshyperion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Crossover, Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Russian Doll Crossover, Russian Doll alternate universe, alternate realities (but not because of time-turner related shenanigans), gryffindor!albus (but he isn't happy about it)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoshyperion/pseuds/lumoshyperion
Summary: On the last day of term before the Summer holidays, Scorpius Malfoy spots Albus Potter across the corridor on the Hogwarts Express. There’s an inexpressible longing trapped in that glance, before they both wordlessly part ways. That single moment throws the two boys into an adventure neither asked for - and neither of them knows how to end.Albus and Scorpius are trapped in a time loop, not dissimilar from that experienced by Alan and Nadia in Russian Doll. They live, they die, they wake up, and so it goes on. But how do they fix it?





	1. nothing in the world is easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://myfavoritelatte.tumblr.com/post/183185596701/okay-random-idea-how-about-scorbus-as-in-a-russian  
> I saw this post from myfavouritelatte on tumblr and essentially smashed the beginnings this fic out in a matter of weeks. You probably don't have to watch Russian Doll for this story to make sense, but I'd still recommend it nonetheless. It's beautiful, inspired television with my wife - Nadia Vulvokov - at the centre of it all. The first three chapters are online and the final three will be up soon!

“We sit and talk,  
quietly, with long lapses of silence  
and I am aware of the stream  
that has no language, coursing  
beneath the quiet heaven of  
your eyes  
which has no speech.”  
William Carlos Williams

As the other students pushed their way through the carriages of the Hogwarts Express, eager to get in their last goodbyes before finding their parents on the platform, Scorpius Malfoy stayed behind - slowly packing his things and stowing the food from the journey in his pockets. He was excited to see his parents, whom he hadn’t seen since Christmas, but he was reluctant to leave the relative safety of the locked compartment for the loud bustle of King’s Cross station.

His shoulders and neck were still itchy from whatever unknown powder two third year Slytherin and Gryffindor students had thrown at him as he boarded the train in Hogsmeade. He’d managed to get most of it off, but there were still irritable patches of red skin peeking out from underneath his green jumper.

Once the train seemed comparatively quiet - he lifted his suitcase and unlocked the clasp on the compartment door before stepping outside. The windows to the carriage had been thrown open as they approached the station, students eager to catch a glimpse of their envious siblings and beaming parents. He could hear the chatter of the families as he peered out of the open windows, trying in vain to spot his parents through the smoke of the train.

He could feel someone watching him, before he turned and spotted Albus Potter standing at a window just down the corridor. He still got a thrill of excitement every time he saw the Gryffindor student. He looked so much like his father, with those piercing green eyes, it was like he’d stepped right out of the history books in the Malfoy library. But he’d changed so much over their first three years at Hogwarts. His eyes were darker, his skin was sallow - he moved about the castle like a ghost.

Scorpius wouldn’t pretend to know the source of the boy’s unhappiness, he could only guess at it from what he’d observed throughout the years. He wasn’t doing well in his classes and he was almost as unpopular as Scorpius himself. He knew how it felt to be invisible at that school. So whenever he ran into Albus, he tried to communicate with him. Through stuttering conversations and furtive glances - he hoped he expressed what words could not.  _ _‘You’re not alone. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.’__ But the message was always lost.

Albus Potter was still watching him, from across the corridor. He opened his mouth to speak. And then, suddenly, the moment was broken. Albus pulled his robes around him and glanced away, before turning and making his way off the train, and all Scorpius could do was watch in silence - lost and hopeful, all at once.

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

On the first day of September, Scorpius looked for Albus on the platform. But he couldn’t find him anywhere in the sea of families and students. He searched for the familiar sight of witches and wizards staring and pointing at what always turned out to be just another family dropping their children off for another year at Hogwarts - their dark haired father beaming down at them through round glasses. But Harry Potter was nowhere in sight.

Confused and a little heartbroken, Scorpius boarded the train and found an empty compartment - only just having the foresight to lock the door behind him before he sat down. He tossed his suitcase on the seat opposite and sighed, pulling his copy of ‘Hogwarts: A History’ out of the side pocket and glancing at the students making their way through the corridor - hoping to catch a glimpse of that familiar black hair and those deep green eyes.

Would Albus look for him? However much he wanted to be friends with him, they’d never crossed that line. All there was between them were glances in hallways and shared cauldrons in potions class when everyone else refused to sit with them. There was an afternoon in the first term of second year - he was sitting alone outside the Great Hall, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Albus, warning him that three Gryffindors were about to try and sneak a potion into his lunch. Before he could thank him, he was already gone.

There was no escaping the fact that Albus Potter didn’t want to be around him. And he respected that. What little popularity the boy had would disappear as soon as he so much as acknowledged Scorpius. He tried not to be hurt by that fact, and he wasn’t. If all they would ever share was solidarity over their Hogwarts experience, he was satisfied with that. But maybe he was just fooling himself.

Scorpius looked up from his book and glanced around the sun dappled compartment. There was muffled laughter from a group of unseen students in the corridor. He absentmindedly ran his fingers down the pages of his book, breathing in the scent and thinking of home. He wondered what his mother was doing at that moment. They would have surely arrived back at the manor by now, his father returning to his office and his mother going to the library or the garden to spend her afternoon.

A lump rose in his throat at the thought of her and he blinked at the window, biting his lip. He hated leaving her at King’s Cross. She wasn’t getting any better. It hadn’t escaped his notice how different she was when he returned home after first, second, and third year. And he hated to think of her - shut away in the manor, waiting for him to come home as her health deteriorated.

There was a sudden temptation to burst out of his compartment, run to the front of the train, and beg to be taken back to London. But he pushed it away and returned to his book.

Before he knew it, they were pulling into Hogsmeade and the quiet corridor was suddenly full of students again. He waited until most of them were gone before he grabbed his suitcase and made his way off the train. In the fading light of the early evening, he searched for Albus on the platform. He spotted Polly Chapman and Yann Fredericks, two students he often saw with Albus, but he wasn’t with them.

He wasn’t at dinner either, although Scorpius told himself it was impossible to spot anyone at the welcome feast on the first day back at Hogwarts. On the way down to the Slytherin common room, he was stopped in the hallway by Craig Bowker. A student from his house - they sometimes sat together at meals or in classes. He knew Craig had other friends, and he only spoke to Scorpius when he wanted something, but he tried not to mind it.

“I didn’t see you on the train, Scorpius! You know you’re allowed to come sit with us in our compartment, don’t you?” He asked, falling into step with him.

Scorpius frowned, glancing over at him as they walked. “Your friends don’t like me. I thought you knew that.”

Craig spluttered, almost missing a step on the staircase. “That’s not true. April likes you.”

“April boiled my potions essay while I was stocking up on ingredients and then almost tripped me up the stairs before an astronomy lesson,” he replied, dodging students in the hallway. He spotted someone who looked like they could have been Hugo Granger-Weasley, Rose’s brother, and a thought occurred to him. “Have you seen Albus Potter yet?”

“No. Why? Are you looking for him?”

Scorpius shook his head and ducked into the Slytherin common room, after the group of first years and the preening prefect. “I didn’t see him on the train or at dinner. I was just wondering where he was.”

“That’s weird. Maybe he missed the train?” Craig suggested, still following after him. “I haven’t seen his brother or sister either.”

Scorpius stopped and looked at Craig with sudden concern. James and Lily Potter weren’t at school either? “Do you think something happened?”

He shrugged and stepped behind one of the large sofas, allowing a gaggle of students to push past them. “I’m sure we’ll find out by morning. They are Potters, after all. We know where they are, when they are, and what they had for breakfast - thanks to the Daily Prophet. But why are you so worried about them?”

Scorpius made an excuse and quickly extracted himself from the conversation, insisting he was tired and he had a lot of unpacking to do. Truthfully he just wanted to be alone. He went to bed that night with anxiety filling his chest and seeping into his heart. Something felt deeply wrong, but he couldn’t say how or why. Albus’ absence gnawed at his conscience and filled his dreams with traffic accidents and sudden illnesses.

The next morning, he was late for breakfast. He debated skipping it altogether and staying in the common room until his first class of the day - potions with Professor Zaveri - but eventually his stomach won out and he begrudgingly made his way upstairs to the Great Hall. By the time he arrived, half the students had already left and the rest were moving about the long tables and catching up with their friends.

He ate his pumpkin pasties in silence, looking up only when he heard another student say Albus’ name. It was the third time that morning someone had mentioned him, but Scorpius had only been able to overhear snatches of conversations. He wondered why they were talking about him. It was on his mind, as he made his way back down to the dungeons for his potions class, and stayed there throughout the lesson.

The student he was working with said something and he looked up, taking in their expression of alarm. He frowned and looked at the bubbling mixture in the cauldron. It seemed fine. But was it meant to be that colour? And why did it smell so strange? He turned to the other student and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when the potion exploded in his face.


	2. the great escape

Scorpius was standing in front of a mirror in his bathroom, at home. He couldn’t remember how he got there or when. Wasn’t he at Hogwarts, in a potions class? He gripped the edges of the basin and searched his memory. But all he could find was a flash of light and searing, unbearable pain. His potion had gone horribly wrong. He must not have been paying attention to the ingredients, or the measurements, or something. But that didn’t explain what he was doing back at the manor. Shouldn’t he be in the hospital wing?

Looking at himself in the mirror, he seemed fine. And he felt fine. Except he had no memory of leaving Hogwarts and returning home. Curious, he opened the bathroom door and pattered downstairs to the dining room. His parents were having breakfast - his mother smiled at him as he sat down. “Darling, would you like another croissant?”

Scorpius looked at her with alarm. “You said that yesterday. You asked me if I wanted another croissant and I said no and then you commented on the weather.”

“Are you feeling alright?” She asked, reaching for his hand. But he was staring across the table at his father, who had a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him. The articles were exactly the same as the day before. “I know you’re nervous about going back. But once you get on the train, you’ll be fine. Fourth year will be much easier.”

He blinked at her, utterly stunned.  _ _How__  could an exploded potion cause him to  _ _travel back in time?__  Astoria let go of his hand and turned to Draco, clearly looking for assurance, but he merely sipped his coffee and watched his son in silence.

Scorpius looked down at his plate, wracking his brain for an explanation. It could be some sort of prank from the other students. A curse or a hex, maybe something they slipped into his potion. But that couldn’t be the explanation. It wasn’t that he doubted the cruelty of the other students - it was the memory of his experience in the potions lesson that pushed the idea from his mind. He could still feel the heat burning through his veins and into his skull. He hadn’t just gotten the potion wrong. He’d died in that classroom.

Struggling with all the possibilities - and with the idea of his own mortality - there was only one that made sense to him. He leaned against the table and caught his father’s attention, before speaking. “Dad, do you know anything about time displacement curses?”

Draco frowned. “Scorpius, is there something you want to tell us?”

“No, nothing - I’m just - curious, is all.” He seemed unconvinced, so Scorpius searched for another explanation and finally landed on one. “Homework! I have homework. On dark curses.”

His father set aside his paper and pursed his lips, staring at Scorpius. And then he stood up and left the dining room.

Astoria watched him leave before turning to Scorpius, who was presently chewing his breakfast with a look of deep concentration on his face. “It’s the first day of term, surely you don’t have homework already?”

“Extracurricular,” he replied, crumbs flying onto the table. “For Professor Vulvokov.”

She sighed, smiled fondly at him, and returned to her own breakfast. Scorpius arched his neck and tried to catch glimpses of the newspaper from across the table without rousing more suspicion from his mother. But there it was, in small print on the front page. Friday, September 1st, 2020. He sunk back in his chair, leaning heavily against the cold surface. He knew his father didn't like it when he slouched like that but, in fairness, he was having a Very Strange Day.

When his father returned to the dining room, he placed two leather bound books on the table in front of Scorpius and said, "I haven't read these. They were your grandfather's. Don't get food on them - they're almost two hundred years old."

Scorpius, who had almost toppled his breakfast as he snatched the books off the table, sheepishly tucked them in the space between his thigh and the armrest of his seat, and quietly thanked his father.

He devoured the books on the train to Hogwarts, but they yielded nothing. The closest thing he could find to his situation was in 'The Black Annis Guide to Dark Magic'. It suggested a curse that was able to send its victims hurtling halfway across the country, showing up weeks later - distraught, hungry, and tired. But there was no verbal spell or potion for it. And Scorpius had gone back in time, not forward. It still didn't explain what had happened in the potions lesson or how he had survived.

He wondered who he could ask about it. He'd already ruled out Professor Zaveri, anxious and awkward as he was. One mention of dark magic would probably send him into early retirement from the sheer stress of it all. He could ask his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He grimaced at the thought of it. Professor Vulvokov was an extraordinary witch, but she scared him a little bit. Every now and then during lessons she would regress into stories of 'the good old days', as she called them - although they didn't sound particularly good to Scorpius as most of them involved inebriation, chaos, death, and what he could only assume was an exceptionally powerful wizard named Oatmeal. Maybe he knew something about this situation.

Scorpius resolved not to tell anyone just yet, as he followed the rest of the students off the train and down to the carriages. He was so involved in his own thoughts, as he trudged along the muddy path with his head down, that he didn't even think to look for Albus Potter among the other students.

The quiet introspection of his journey to school on the Hogwarts Express had given him time to sit with his situation and almost accept what had happened. But, arriving in the Great Hall with a crushing sense of deja vu, he almost turned on his heel and ran straight out of the castle. The evening passed by in a blur, as he sat through the same welcome speech from Professor McGonagall and the same sorting ceremony - his feeling of dissociation and anxiety only increasing as the night went on. When he finally left the hall, he almost walked straight into Craig Bowker.

"I didn't see you on the train, Scorpius! You know you're allowed-"

"Craig." Scorpius swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at him. "We've had this conversation already."

Craig frowned and looked him over. "No we haven't. Are you feeling alright?"

"You genuinely don't remember telling me you missed me on the train before?"

Craig laughed, awkwardly, but stopped when he saw the serious expression on Scorpius' face. "No? Look, we tried to find you at King's Cross, but I think you're avoiding us."

Scorpius dragged a trembling hand through his hair, trying to resist the urge to grab Craig by the arms and shake him. "What makes you think that?"

Craig shrugged. "You never sit with us at meals. You always avoid us in classes. Honestly, I'm starting to think that you don't like us."

"Because your friends don't like me! Look, I-" He stopped, suddenly distracted by the sight of James Potter slinging an arm around his sister, Lily, who beamed up at him. Their brother wasn't with them. "Have you seen Albus?"

"Albus Potter? Not yet. Why, are you looking for him?"

Scorpius shook his head. "No, nevermind." Then, without a second glance, he made his way down to the Slytherin common room alone - collapsing into bed when he arrived.

The next morning, Scorpius slept all the way through breakfast and had to run to make his potions lesson. Because he arrived so late, he was partnered up with a different student. He was so slow and methodical with the process of making their potion that eventually the Ravenclaw student took over themselves while Scorpius watched from a (safe) distance.

At the end of the lesson he was so thoroughly relieved that his potion didn't combust, he completely forgot to speak to Professor Zaveri. But he only had limited time between lessons and he wanted to make a visit to the library, hopeful the books there on dark magic would yield more results than the ones his father had given him.

Finding an empty desk between the high shelves, he quickly surrounded himself with stacks of books and dived into his studies. He was barely keeping track of the time - his attention on the task in front of him was so singular and unyielding. It was only when he thought he overheard his name from somewhere within the library that he looked up.

“I thought all the Time-Turners were destroyed years ago? In the battle of the department of mysteries?” One of the students asked in an eager, excitable whisper.

“Of course they were,” came a hushed response. “But there’s always been rumours of witches and wizards trying to make more. My father spotted Draco Malfoy at the ministry of magic last week, right after the Daily Prophet published that article about a Time-Turner being made in secret. Who do you think he was there to speak with? Everyone knows Harry Potter has taken a very special interest in this case. ” The student paused, probably watching their friend’s reaction. “And that’sbecause Draco Malfoy has been breathing down his neck about it. And we all know why  _ _he__  hates Time-Turners so much.”

Scorpius flushed red, looking down at his book and trying to tone out the conversation. But it persisted. “You honestly don’t believe the rumour about Scorpius Malfoy, do you? Total hogwash if you ask me.”

“Does it matter if I believe it? Someone’s building a Time-Turner. Don’t you want to know who it is, and why? They wouldn’t build one just for the fun of it.”

He slammed his book shut and the conversation ended abruptly. Looking up, he watched as two Ravenclaw students hurried out of the library - giving him sheepish glances over their shoulders. There had been rumours of a Time-Turner being built for years. It was only with the recent increase in raids made by Harry Potter and his team of aurors that the rumours had flourished into something newsworthy enough for the Daily Prophet to publish articles and think pieces about it.

Scorpius wondered, as he set aside his book and shifted in his seat, if the possibility of a Time-Turner being built had any baring on his situation. But Time-Turners were only capable of going back hours, not days. And even if he found the Time-Turner, even if he could travel back in time - what could he possibly achieve?

He’d finished the set of books on the desk and, with no less or more knowledge than he started with, he stood up and perused the shelf behind him for more books. There was one on a higher shelf with a title he could barely make out. It was a book on Time-Turners. Casting about for a ladder, he spotted one further down the shelf. Karl Jenkins was sitting on one of the lower rungs, talking and laughing with three of his Hufflepuff friends.

“Excuse me,” said Scorpius, and they all looked over at him as he pointed to the ladder. “Do you mind if I borrow that?”

None of them responded. And then Karl stood up and leaned against the ladder, crossing his arms with a smug expression on his face. Knowing a lost cause when he saw it, Scorpius turned and went back to his desk - hearing the four boys snicker behind him.

Still determined to read the book on Time-Turners, he wheeled his chair over and carefully stood on top of it. Leaning against the shelf for support, he reached up and could barely touch the spine with his fingertips. Scorpius bit his lip and, adjusting his footing, he tried again. But his ankle twisted the wrong way and he lost his balance, toppling off the chair and falling to the ground with a sickening crack.

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

When Scorpius found himself in front of the mirror at home again, he washed his face and sighed - staring down into the sink as the water swirled down the drain. He felt exceptionally stupid for the incident in the library and went down to breakfast with ears pink from embarrassment. He ate his croissants in silence, dimly aware of the looks his parents were giving him and continued to give him on the way to the train station later that morning.

Arriving at Hogwarts, he went through the motions. He left dinner early to avoid Craig and made his way down to the Slytherin common rooms without the swarm of first years impeding his every movement.

He woke up early and skipped breakfast, making his way straight to the potions classroom. Professor Zaveri was shocked to see him when he arrived to unlock the door, although he happily let him in to help set up for the morning’s lesson. But as soon as Scorpius started talking about Time-Turners and dark curses, the professor blanched and Scorpius promptly dropped the subject. He knew Zaveri was a bad idea.

When he arrived at the library after his potions lesson, Karl Jenkins was already sitting on the ladder surrounded by his friends. They all looked over at Scorpius as he approached them. The brown haired boy looked particularly disgusted, but Scorpius ignored him and went straight up to Karl.

“I’d like to use that ladder. Please get off it.”

The Hufflepuff student considered him for a moment from his lofty seat, before giving an indifferent shrug and stepping off the ladder. Scorpius had expected a lot more defiance and smiled broadly as he shifted the ladder towards the book on Time-Turners.

He was halfway up when he felt the ladder wobble underneath him. He looked down at the brown haired student, who was clasping one of the rungs and shaking it. Ignoring him, he continued upward and reached for the book. But the boy was determined and kept shaking the ladder until he could barely keep his balance.

Scorpius looked at Karl, who rolled his eyes and stood up. “Give it a rest, Shaun.”

Shaun scoffed at his friend, but stepped away. Scorpius turned back to the shelf. In the scuffle, the ladder had moved to the right and he was a little further away from the book he wanted. Still, he reached for it. He was just inches away when he suddenly lost his footing on the ladder. In an attempt to right himself, he grabbed wildly at the books - bringing half the shelf's contents down with him as he fell.

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

As he stared at himself in the mirror - at home, once again - he groaned so loud that a passing house elf jumped and scurried away. Making his way downstairs, he decided to bypass the dining room entirely in favour of the large library. He quickly found the two books his father had given him, along with various others he had already read at Hogwarts, but he was struggling to find anything new. And there wasn’t a single book on Time-Turners, as far as he could see. In the end he settled on a few fairly pedestrian books to read on his journey back to Hogwarts.

But he found it impossible to focus on them. He read paragraphs over and over again, before giving up and moving onto the next book - only to have the same problem. By the time he arrived at the school he was deeply frustrated. He kept thinking about the book in the library. The Time-Turner theory was probably a bust, but he was still determined to get that book off the shelf without dying horribly for once. He’d drop by again after potions class in the morning and ask Karl Jenkins to fetch it for him, if he had to.

When he ran into Craig on the way out of the Great Hall, all it took was one glimpse of his wide smile to set him over the edge. “Scorpius! I didn’t see you on the-”

“I’m not going to sit with you and your friends, Craig! They hate me and I hate them - please don’t suggest it again.” But almost as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Craig was dumbstruck and Scorpius ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. Rough tomorrow. And every tomorrow before that. In fact, I’ve decided tomorrow is a complete write off.”

Craig raised an eyebrow. “Already? Scorpius, we’ve only just started term.”

“ _ _You’ve__  only just started term,” he corrected him. “Have you seen Albus Potter yet?” Before he could answer, he shook his head and raised a hand. “No, you know what? Nevermind. I’m going to bed.”

When he woke up early again the next morning, he almost considered going to class early to try a new approach with Professor Zaveri. But he was starving, so he stumbled down to breakfast instead with his cauldron full of books from his father’s library. He set about reading them as he devoured his food. He felt a lot clearer than he had the day before and, although the books were about as helpful as all the others he had read, he still pushed onwards.

He could have stayed there all morning, as students and teachers and ghosts alike flitted around him unnoticed. But then there was a change in the air. He looked up, the hairs on the back of his neck and arms standing on end. Everyone was staring at the false ceiling, where the clear day had suddenly transformed to dark rain clouds. Scorpius looked at Professor McGonagall, who already had her wand out. But none of her spells were any use when the skies opened up and all hell broke loose.

As Scorpius shoved his books into the cauldron to keep them dry, he watched students scrambling to get out of the Great Hall. It wasn’t just raining. Something had gone wrong with the enchanted ceiling. There was an electricity in the air, pulsing through the room and sending students and tables flying at the walls. It was total chaos.

Scorpius was so utterly bewildered that all he could do was stand and watch. And then he spotted him. Albus Potter, sitting quite calmly at the Gryffindor table. Scorpius pushed through the sea of bodies until he was face to face with the boy, who looked up at him while nonchalantly taking a sip of his drink.

“What are you doing?” He shouted over the din of the Great Hall.

Albus shrugged. “Eating.”

“You do realize what’s happening don’t you?” He questioned, while motioning broadly at the hall to illustrate his point. “We could be killed.”

He observed the other students, considering them as one might consider an exceptionally dull view outside a window. “It doesn’t matter. I die all the time.”

Scorpius froze. “Me too.”

The boys stared at each other, speechless. Albus’ shoulders sagged and he smiled. Even as the Great Hall fell to pieces around them, teachers firing defensive spells at unseen threats as students ran for cover,  _ _he smiled__.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to set this in fourth year while still including Scorpius' interactions with his mother so, for the sake of the fic, Astoria is still alive. And the whole Time-Turner adventure hasn't happened, although Time-Turners are still present! Please let me know your thoughts on the fic, I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	3. albus' routine

Albus couldn’t remember how long he’d been stuck in a loop of the first days back at Hogwarts. When it started, when he woke up again and again on the train after dying at the school, he was keeping count. But he’d given up on that a long time ago.

It was easy to fall into a routine when everything happened like clockwork - day after day. Polly and Yann discussing their Summer holidays, Hugo being sorted into his house to rapturous applause from their table. His cousin Rose pestering him about their homework, all of which he had already memorized out of sheer boredom on the train to Hogwarts. Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and then Astronomy the following day. It was usually during one of these lessons that something went terribly, tragically wrong and Albus died - only to wake up on the train again.

Creatures on the loose, spells gone wrong, and even one particularly awful plant in Professor Longbottom’s class that took an interest in Albus and decided that hurling him through the window was the most reasonable course of action. He also fell down the stairs quite a bit. Who thought moving staircases in a school was a good idea, anyway?

Really the only variety in his days came from his untimely deaths. He never knew when or where to expect them. He only assumed they were coming at some point after breakfast. So, when he found himself sitting in the middle of the Great Hall at eight o’clock in the morning while students and tables were thrown about by an unseen force, all Albus could do was roll his eyes and mutter, “It’s too early for this.”

When one of the Slytherin students approached him, he looked up. It was Scorpius Malfoy, wearing a look of total befuddlement. “What are you doing?” He shouted.

“Eating,” he replied. What else would he be doing?

Scorpius looked thoroughly baffled. “You do realize what’s happening don’t you?” He questioned, while motioning broadly at the hall to illustrate his point. “We could be killed.”

Albus almost laughed. But he observed the hall nonetheless, before looking back up at the other student. “It doesn’t matter. I die all the time.”

Scorpius froze. “Me too.”

Albus paused, the shock of those two words passing through him. But then he realized what they meant - what they could mean. __He wasn__ _ _’t alone.__ The tension in his shoulders dissolved and he broke into a brilliant smile.

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

When Scorpius Malfoy tumbled into Albus Potter’s compartment on the train to Hogwarts, he barely had time to register his appearance before he had launched into a series of questions about him and their shared predicament. “How long have you been dying? __How__  have you been dying? Do you know anything about what’s happening? Do you think it’s a curse? A dark curse? Do you think one of the students did it? Do you-”

Albus raised a hand and cut him off, “Hang on, slow down. You think another student did this to us? A student cursed us to die, over and over again, for however long this goes on for? It’s a bit advanced for school age witches and wizards, surely.”

Scorpius finally sat down, blushing furiously. “Well. I don’t know. It’s just a theory. And, I mean, we’re not exactly popular - so.”

“Stealing our potions essays - sure. Calling us names - obviously. But they’re barely capable of a half decent hex, in case you haven’t noticed. And, whatever this is, it’s clearly advanced magic. Dark magic. I don’t think they could pull it off, honestly.” Albus paused. Taking in the other boy’s suddenly withdrawn, bashful expression - he leaned forward and smiled encouragingly. “What else have you got?”

Scorpius immediately brightened and continued, “There’s those rumours that a Time-Turner is being built.”

“What, really?” Albus spluttered. “There hasn’t been a functioning Time-Turner in years. Not since the battle of the department of mysteries.”

“It’s been all over the papers for weeks. Haven’t you seen the articles?”

This didn’t surprise Albus. He’d spent the last weeks of Summer holidays at home, avoiding everyone. And it all felt so long ago. “I don’t really read the papers,” he explained. “And even if we found a Time-Turner, it doesn’t explain all this, does it?”

Scorpius thought about that and then his eyes widened. “Your dad is Harry Potter.”

“Oh, wow, really? I had no idea. Thanks for letting me know,” he deadpanned.

“No - Albus - we can talk to him. We can tell him what’s happening and maybe he can help. He’s the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, he’s the Boy-Who-Lived, surely he’ll know what to do.”

He didn’t like that idea. Besides, he’d already tried writing to his parents - but died immediately after in various owl related incidents. “Have you told your parents? What did they have to say?”

Scorpius flinched. “No. I, umm… My mum is sick. I don’t - I don’t want to worry them, or her. Sorry.”

Albus opened his mouth to respond, but found that he wasn’t sure what to say. He had heard about Astoria Malfoy’s blood curse. He knew it was terminal. And he suddenly felt deeply for the boy across from him, who was fiddling with one of the threadbare armrests in his seat - looking up only when he heard the Trolley Witch coming down the corridor.

“I’ll get it,” said Albus, motioning for Scorpius to put away his coin purse as he stood and made his way to the door.

“You know it doesn’t matter who buys our snacks for the journey, the money will just reappear when we die again,” he heard Scorpius insist from behind him as he paid for a bag full of treats.

“Well, you can pay next time,” Albus responded, as he sat down next to him and emptied the bag on the seat between them. “Help yourself.”

“Did you purposefully avoid the enchanted sweets?” Scorpius asked, rifling through the mountain of confectionery - a small smile forming on his face. “I can’t see any Pepper Imps. Were you worried they’d be faulty and kill us both?”

He scowled. “Death by sweets? Now that’s going too far. I protest.”

Scorpius plucked a bag of Fizzing Whizbees from the pile, before settling back into his seat and watching Albus open a box of Licorice Wands. “How have you died? You didn’t tell me, earlier.”

“Oh, all sorts of ways. Those staircases are a death trap.” He paused and groaned. “I sounded like my Uncle Percy just then.”

Scorpius shook his head, a smug expression on his face. “I can top that. The library. Twice.”

Albus almost knocked half the food off the seat. “How can you die in a __library__?”

He shrugged. “Very easily, apparently. I was actually trying to find out more about our situation, when it happened.”

“And?” Albus asked, his voice muffled by the packet of Sherbet Lemons he was opening with his teeth.

“Nothing,” Scorpius sighed. “I was trying to pull a book on Time-Turners down from the top shelf when I fell. Again. It’s all Karl Jenkins’ fault, really.”

Albus frowned, wondering what Karl Jenkins - an often unpleasant but usually quite harmless Hufflepuff student - could possibly have to do with Scorpius falling to his death in the library. “We can always go and check it out tomorrow. But have you tried the restricted section yet?”

The blonde boy’s eyes widened. “No. Have you?”

“No. I mean, I thought about trying the library, but I never really got around to it.”

Scorpius was practically glowing and Albus couldn’t take his eyes off of him. “I’ve never been in the restricted section. Don’t you need permission from a teacher?”

“Well, yes, but we won’t need it. I can borrow my brother’s invisibility cloak and we can go to the library tonight, after dinner.”

“ _ _The__ invisibility cloak? Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak?”

“It’s not that exciting. Smelly, moldy old thing,”Albus scoffed. “But I’ll meet you outside the Slytherin dormitory tonight at eleven and we’ll go up to the library together.”

“I’ve never been much of a rule breaker,” Scorpius admitted, sheepishly. “Though you’re probably an old hand at it. Being a Potter and all.”

Albus looked up at him and frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?” Scorpius blinked at him and then winced. “Did I say something wrong? Sorry. I’m sorry, Albus.”

“No, it’s not - forget I said anything.” Albus flashed him a small smile, trying to diffuse the tension he’d created. Every mention of his father put him on edge, he couldn’t help it. “You know it doesn’t matter if we get in trouble. It’ll be forgotten as soon as we die again.”

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting, Albus?”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” he replied, suggestively.

Scorpius put on a faux disapproving expression, which lasted about two seconds before they both dissolved into fits of laughter. They spent the rest of the journey talking about everything and nothing - from rule breaking, to killer owls, to confectionery - both determined to ignore the dire situation at hand in favour of the joy of each others company.

And as Albus watched the Slytherin boy talk animatedly about a long dead professor who discovered some sort of massively important mushroom - he felt something he hadn’t felt in years, he just couldn’t quite put a name to it. But he didn’t want the train journey to end. When it did, when they finally pulled into Hogsmeade, he piled off the train with Scorpius - laughter on their lips and their pockets filled with candy wrappers.

“That boy over there?” Scorpius asked, pointing to a blonde second year student.

“No, next to him,” Albus replied. “The one with the dark hair.”

As they watched, the dark haired student rifled through his bag - looking deeply confused, his square glasses balancing atop his head.

“He’s looking for his glasses. He’s about to try a summoning spell. Watch.”

Sure enough, the boy gave up on searching his bag and pulled his wand out. He recited the spell, his glasses immediately flying off his head and into his fumbling hands. Albus chuckled and made his way off the platform, leaving the bewildered second year to his delighted friends.

“You’re awful, Albus,” Scorpius admonished, but he was smiling too. “Has he done that every time? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Every. Time. I’ve lost count of how many, exactly, but he always does it.”

Scorpius stopped on the path and Albus turned, confused. “You’ve lost count? How many times have you died?”

He considered. “I don’t know. Quite a lot. How many times have you died?”

“Four. Once in a potions class, twice in the library, and then once in the Great Hall - with you.”

His stomach sank. But, seeing the look of concern on the other boy’s face, he quickly attempted to change the subject. “I mean, reliving the first days of term at Hogwarts isn’t exactly ideal, but I manage.”

“Not ideal?” Scorpius frowned. “I know it’s not perfect, but - it’s Hogwarts. Haven’t you wanted to go to this school ever since you were a kid?”

“Yes. But then I grew up,” Albus replied, with a shrug. He spotted Yann Fredericks and Polly Chapman heading towards them. They hadn’t seen Scorpius yet, but Albus was hoping they wouldn’t. “Quick. Let’s find a carriage.”

He tugged on Scorpius’s sleeve, dragging him towards a carriage with three quiet second years in it. He’d never ridden with them before, but he hoped no one else would join them and they could leave before Polly had anything to say about it. Glancing back, he could see her approaching them with Yann following close behind. She seemed upset.

Albus climbed up onto the carriage and sat down, waiting for Scorpius to follow. But then Polly and Yann pushed past him, taking their seat across from Albus and giving him a stone cold glare as they shut the door behind them. The carriage took off and Albus turned in his seat and watched as Scorpius stood, alone, at the gates to the grounds of Hogwarts.

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

Albus shivered as he made his way through the dark halls of Hogwarts, concealed by his father’s invisibility cloak. If there was ever a time he loved the school, it would be at night. With no one around to look at him or expect anything from him - he could wander freely and without restraint or fear. Classes were exhausting. The other students were exhausting. He always looked forward to the nighttime at Hogwarts, when he could be alone.

Only, he wouldn’t be alone tonight. Making his way down from the Gryffindor tower to the Slytherin common room, he thought about Scorpius - and not for the first time that evening. He couldn’t help but smile as he recalled their journey to school on the Hogwarts Express. The compartment he’d spent countless mornings, alone, had immediately brightened as soon as the silver haired boy had burst through the doorway.

There was just something about it that felt right. Like a missing piece of him had slipped into place, the moment Scorpius smiled at him. He just wished it hadn’t been under these circumstances.

Making his way down the stairs to the place Scorpius had told Albus to meet him, he broke into a grin as he spotted the boy in question loitering in an alcove - his wand lighting up his anxious face. An unimpressed statue leaned over, tapping him on the shoulder, and Scorpius yelped as he whirled around to face them.

And Albus couldn’t help himself. He laughed, almost losing his footing as he stepped off the staircase and stood at the base of the statue. Scorpius looked through him, his eyes wild as he whispered, “Albus? Is that you?”

“Oh, sorry,” he replied, slipping off the cloak to the other boy’s relief. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No, but I wasn’t sure if - ow, get off!” He swatted away the statue, who was trying to grab his wand. “I wasn’t sure if you were really coming.”

Pulling Scorpius away from the statue and back towards the stairs, he gave a shrug and tucked the cloak under his arm. “Of course I came. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he paused, looked over his shoulder at the statue, and then turned back to face Albus. “Do you think they’ll tell McGonagall we’re out of our dormitories at night?”

“It’s not the statues we have to worry about, it’s the portraits, and that’s why we have this,” he explained, holding up the cloak before peering around the dark corridor. “You’re really not going to show me where the secret entrance is? I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

“I think we’re doing enough rule breaking tonight, don’t you? Besides - if I tell you how to get into the Slytherin common room, how do we know the spirit of some awful Slytherin head of house won’t come and curse us both?”

“What, another curse? As if this one isn’t bad enough?” He glanced over at Scorpius and sighed, relenting. “No, you’re right, let’s sort this one out first and then worry about the ghost of ‘Professor Really Awful Slytherin, the Third’ later.”

As they climbed the stairs and crept through the corridors, Albus couldn’t help but think of his father and his aunt and uncle - on their own adventures under this same cloak. As he bumped shoulders with Scorpius, who looked over at him constantly with an expression of total euphoria, he suddenly felt closer to his dad, and missed him more than ever.

Although he knew it was pointless and he would always be too late, he still tried to spot his parents on the platform every time he woke up on the train after dying again at the school. Desperate for even a glimpse of his mother’s smiling face and his father’s perpetually messy hair, so much like his own, he stood on his toes and stared out the windows as the train pulled away. But he never saw them.

It had been so long since the night before term started. His memory was only in bits and pieces. He just knew he had been unhappy and he knew there was an argument between him and his father. Somehow the distance of the past weeks and months, and the terrible loneliness of facing his own mortality - day after day - had made it difficult to stay mad at his his father. He would give anything to relate his adventures to him, over one of his home cooked meals. There was so much he wanted to tell him.

“Could you duck down, Scorpius?” Albus asked, swallowing the lump in his throat as he squinted down at the hem of the cloak which was just brushing the other, taller boy’s ankles. “I don’t think anyone needs to see a pair of snake slippers wandering the halls of Hogwarts at night.”

Scorpius obliged, ducking down to Albus’ height, and then grinned. “Don’t like my choice of footwear?”

“No, they’re delightful, but keep your voice down,” he whispered back, glancing over at a portrait that had woken up and was glaring down the hallway. “We don’t want to get caught before we’ve even gotten to the restricted section.”

When they finally arrived at the library, Scorpius’s joy only increased tenfold. It was infectious and Albus found himself grinning ear to ear as they shuffled their way over to the rope that divided the restricted section from the rest of the library. With one last elated glance at his companion, he stepped over the rope - Scorpius following suite.

When nothing happened, and none of the books or Madam Pince herself came crashing down upon them, Albus whooped and Scorpius lit a lamp. Quietly, they set about browsing the shelves for books on curses, only speaking when they found something interesting or something thoroughly gruesome and therefore riveting to a pair of impressionable teenage boys.

“About earlier. At the carriages, with Polly and Yann,” whispered Scorpius, from beside him. “We don’t have to hang out, if your friends don’t like it. We can debrief on the train, but pretend we still don’t know each other at school. I mean - if that’s what you want.”

Albus stopped and looked at him. “Yann and Polly aren’t my friends.”

Scorpius shrugged, without looking back at Albus. “You’re with them all the time, though.”

He frowned, replacing a book on the shelf and crossing his arms - watching Scorpius flick idly through the pages of a well worn tome he’d been perusing for the past ten minutes. “Polly only hangs out with me because I’m a Potter. And Yann always hangs out with her. We’re not friends. And, besides, I don’t care what they think.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He did care what they thought of him. He would care if they stopped hanging out with him. They were the closest thing he did have to friends, after all. “This is more important. And I like hanging out with you.”

Scorpius finally looked up from his book, stunned. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do. And, anyway, you’re clearly the brains of this operation.”

Scorpius laughed, watching as Albus pulled another book from the shelf. He opened it, distractedly, and only had mere seconds to react as it transformed into an eldritch horror - all razor sharp teeth and horrible, endless depths as it devoured everything in sight.

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

“Killed by a book. We were killed by a __book__ ,” Scorpius moaned, dragging a hand through his hair as he paced the compartment before sitting down with a huff. “Of all the things. A __book__.”

“Do you want anything from the trolley?” Albus asked, already fishing through his pockets.

“In all my life I’ve read dozens of books - hundreds - but I’ve never met a dangerous book before. And that one was really quite awful. Did you see its teeth?” He waved his hands to demonstrate, although Albus still wasn’t paying him any mind. “They were huge.”

“Scorpius.” He looked up, finally taking in the expectant look on Albus’ face and the sound of the trolley witch coming down the corridor.

“Right. Sorry, no, I’m not hungry.” Albus shrugged, stepping outside to buy two cauldron cakes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again, after that experience.”

Stepping back into the compartment and taking a seat, he smirked. “Really?”

“Yes,” Scorpius insisted. But, scrunching his face in consideration, he immediately changed his mind. “No. And I thought it was my turn to pay.”

“You’re too slow,” said Albus, already unwrapping one of the cakes. “Better luck next time.”

“I’m determined. I’m paying for the next lot, whether you like it or not.” He paused, leaned forward, and then continued, “New theory. Maybe we’re looking in the wrong place. Maybe it isn’t a dark curse.”

“I don’t think you can get any darker than dying repeatedly. Besides, what else could it be?”

“I just don’t see the point of a curse that keeps you alive, perpetually, in spite of multiple brushes with death. Why not just kill us? If whoever did this wanted us to die?” His eyes widened, as if remembering something else. “That’s another thing I thought about. What if this wasn’t done to us by someone. What if it just, I don’t know, happened?”

“I think lack of sugar has gotten to your brain, Scorpius.” Albus tossed the unopened cauldron cake across the compartment. “Here, eat this. I bought it for you.”

“No, wait, just hear me out. If this was done to us, then why? And why is it happening to both of us? How are we connected?”

Albus sighed. He had a point, there. “I don’t know. Maybe it was an accident. I’ve been at this for longer than you have - surely if it’s anyone’s responsibility, it’s mine.”

Scorpius frowned, considering his theory. “I don’t think you caused this, Albus, but maybe it did start with you? If you’ve been stuck longer than I have - I mean, it’s probably nothing, but it’s something to consider. What else do you think it could be?”

Albus didn’t want to admit how he truly felt. There was something, deep in his bones, that told him he was already gone. His fading memories of the night before term were all permeated by a unavoidable knowing that something was terribly wrong. And he knew, somehow, that it was all his fault. He put this feeling into words, as best he could. “I think we’re already dead. Or, well, I’m already dead and you’re - I don’t know why you’re here. But all of this,” he motioned to the compartment, the window, and Scorpius. “It’s not real.”

As he watched the Slytherin boy’s face fall, he regretted sharing his thoughts. He immediately wanted to go back to discussing impossible theories and fruitless escapes. But it was too late. “You don’t mean that, do you?” Albus looked away. “It can’t be that. You’re not dead, we’re not dead. I’d know if we were? Surely?” Scorpius sighed, flopping back into his seat. Albus could feel his eyes on him, but he refused to meet them. “And it doesn’t explain why this is happening to both of us. How are we connected?”

“I’ve always thought I should have been put in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor,” Albus blurted out. He wasn’t sure why it had come to mind, but he felt he had to share it. “My dad said I could ask the sorting hat to put me in Gryffindor, so I did. It was a mistake.”

“I remember seeing you on the platform before we left for first year. You were so much happier then.” Scorpius paused. “I’m sorry.”

Albus finally looked up and met his gaze. It was full of sympathy and he hated it, he didn’t deserve it. “Rose wanted to meet everyone on the train before we decided where to sit. And we saw you. Alone, in your compartment. I was going to go in - I should have gone in. I don’t know why I didn’t. I sat with Polly and Yann instead.”

The other boy deflated, blinking down at the uneaten cauldron cake in silence before finally looking back at Albus with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past. Besides - I doubt something that happened that long ago has anything to do with what’s happening to us now. Unless you being sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin made the universe so upset that it’s thrown us both into a time loop of our own deaths.”

Albus laughed, halfheartedly. “Yeah. I guess not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't believe scorpius and albus didn't become friends and the universe was so upset about it that this happened. can they fix it?? will karl jenkins stop sitting on ladders and sit on a chair like a normal human being? is shaun the hufflepuff actually an agent of chaos and has been responsible for this all along??? tune in next time for more.


	4. reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for suicidal references

The following day, Albus slept through breakfast and decided to skip his first two classes. He was well on his way to skipping Defence Against the Dark Arts, in favour of a trip down to the kitchens to satisfy his growling stomach, when he ran into an overly cheerful Scorpius in the hallways.

“Albus!” He exclaimed, falling into step with him. “Are you heading to Professor Vulvokov’s class? Maybe we can walk down together?”

“I was going to skip her class, actually,” Albus explained, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. “I missed Herbology this morning as well. I just don’t see the point in going anymore.”

“Oh. I haven’t made it to her class yet. I’ve only done Potions so far.”

Albus watched as Scorpius’ face fell, and quickly backtracked. “You’re not missing much, it’s only simple jinxes. I’m an old hand at it now.” Here he paused and gave a small, awkward laugh. “Except for that one time a spell backfired and I was crushed by a bookshelf. Do you think the books have it in for us? Is that what this is all about?”

“You haven’t dogeared any pages recently, have you?” Albus quirked an eyebrow in response. “Albus Potter, how could you? And to think, I went to the library with you.”

“I’m going down to the kitchens, do you want to come with me?” He asked, dodging a pair of first years as they ran past. “I’m starving.”

Scorpius frowned, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “I don’t want to miss Professor Vulvokov’s class. But I’ll see you at lunch?”

With that, he gave an awkward wave and started off down the hallway - a small, unmistakable slump in his shoulders. “Scorpius, wait,” Albus called after him, running to catch up.

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

“I thought you said you worked on jinxes in this class,” Scorpius whispered to Albus, as they deposited their bags on a table at the back of the classroom. All of the chairs, tables, and shelves had been pushed up against the walls - leaving a clear space in the middle of the room.

Albus watched as Professor Vulvokov set up a large armoire in the middle of the classroom and frowned. “I did. I don’t know why it’s different today. What do you suppose is in that thing?”

“Alright, class,” the professor declared, in her heavy Brooklyn drawl. “Today we’re gonna be studying Boggarts. Can anyone tell me what a Boggart is?”

Various students raised their hands, while others whispered to each other and eyed the armoire at the centre of the room with new found curiousity. But Albus shrunk back into his seat. He couldn’t think of anything worse.

“A Boggart is a shape shifter. It takes the form of your greatest fear,” explained one of the Gryffindor students, who beamed at her friends when their house was awarded ten points.

As Professor Vulvokov explained the subject of the lesson, and the spell used to counter it, Albus and Scorpius continued speaking in low tones in a corner of the classroom. “I don’t understand,” said Albus, furiously. “Nothing else changes. All my lessons stay the same. Why aren’t we studying jinxes today?”

Scorpius frowned, watching the red haired professor tutor students in correct wand movements and pronunciation. “Maybe she knows something, maybe she can help us. Have you ever asked her?”

“No. I haven’t asked anyone,” he replied, truthfully.

The other boy looked over at him with confusion. “Why not?”

Albus didn’t have an answer to that. “I guess I never got around to it.”

“Albus? Scorpius? Do you wanna have a try?” The two boys looked up as Professor Vulvokov waved them over to the centre of the classroom, where the other students were gathered around the armoire. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

With a glance over at Scorpius, who looked back at him with a shrug, he shuffled forward and took his place in front of the towering antique wardrobe. The student before him had turned a swarm of bees into bubbles, which floated innocuously above his head. But then the Boggart twisted and turned. It collapsed in on itself, before bursting into various indefinable shapes. And then it settled on one which, to Albus’ absolute horror, turned out to be his father.

Whispers and laughter rippled through the room as Albus fumbled with his wand, almost dropping it. And with a cool glance, Harry Potter observed the class as a whole before his eyes settled on his son. “Can’t do the spell, Albus?” He asked, with a disingenuous smile. “It’s very simple. ‘Riddikulus’. Just give it a go.”

But Albus stuttered, his wand trembling in his hand. He could feel two dozen pairs of eyes boring into his back as the other students watched him fumbling at the feet of his father. Professor Vulvokov seemed on the verge of stepping in, before Harry spoke again.

“You can’t get anything right, can you? James could do this spell with his eyes closed,” he sneered, crossing his arms and shaking his head at Albus. “Aren’t you even going to try? See, this is the problem, you never try  _ _anything__ , Albus. You can’t keep playing the victim if you’re not even trying to be better. It’s so disappointing.”  

“It’s alright, Albus, we can try again later,” he heard the professor reassure him, as she guided him away from the armoire and back to his seat. The laughter of the other students resumed behind him as Harry transformed into a rat, which ran loose around the classroom before a Slytherin girl cast the counter spell and it turned into a rather loud duck.

“I’m sure your dad doesn’t feel that way,” Scorpius insisted from beside him.

“How do you know?” Albus snapped. He immediately regretted it and turned to apologize, but Scorpius was walking resolutely over to the armoire and the Boggart which was now in the shape of a mischievous pixie. But as Scorpius prepared himself, the Boggart twisted, turned, and collapsed in on itself. Then it took the shape of a gravestone, sitting among tufts of green grass. Curious students moved closer to the front of the room and craned their necks to read the name, etched in the stone.

Albus leaned forward in his seat, trying to do the same, but then Scorpius recited the spell in monotone and the unassuming piece of marble dissolved into piles of wrapped candy and Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. They scattered across the polished floor, under tables and past the feet of cackling teenagers.

Scorpius pushed through them and sat down, at the other end of the room. Albus wanted to go to him, but the curve of his body and the expression on his face told him to keep his distance. He didn’t need to ask what name was on the tombstone. He already knew it. Everyone knew about Astoria Malfoy’s incurable blood curse. Unable and uncertain how to comfort his new friend, Albus turned his attention back to the lesson.

“Alright,” Professor Vulvokov addressed the room as a whole, clapping her hands together with a sheepish smile after all the students had had their turns against the Boggart. “Now that we’ve had a look into your souls and the deepest secrets of your inner psyche - my apologies, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter - I think it’s time for lunch. Class dismissed.”

Scorpius, who had already started packing away his things when Professor Vulvokov got up to address the class, rushed ahead of the other students and out the door before Albus could speak to him. Frowning, he packed away his own school books and shouldered his backpack before turning to watch the professor setting the classroom back to rights with a wave of her wand.

She noticed him watching her and smiled. “Would you like a word, Albus?”

Albus gave an almost imperceptible nod and waited until the rest of the students had left the room. Once the last group of Gryffindors left, the door slamming shut behind them, he looked back over at the professor and suddenly found himself uncertain of what he wanted to say. “You don’t seem surprised.” He stated, after a moment of thought, and Professor Vulvokov quirked an eyebrow. “About my Boggart - about it turning into my dad.”

The professor pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders. “Was I expecting your Boggart to turn into a reflection of some deep seated issues with your father? No. But I do know that you’ve been living in his shadow ever since you started school here. I’m not blind, Albus.”

“I’m not afraid of my dad.” There was a quiver in his voice and he cleared his throat, hoping that she didn’t notice.

“I wasn’t implying that you were,” she replied, an elusive expression in her eyes.

“Then why did my Boggart turn into him?”

Vulvokov sighed and took a seat, leaning back against the table behind her as she examined Albus. He fidgeted under her gaze. “You’re not the only student living in the shadow of their parents at this school. They fought a war here, some of them died here. You wanna know what my Boggart turned into, at Ilvermorny?” Albus had the impression that she wasn’t asking. “My mom.”

He blinked at her, uncertain what to do with this information. “And you weren’t scared of her?”

The professor laughed and ran a hand through her hair, somehow making it even more chaotic than before. “Well, you haven’t met my mom, but I’m sure she’s no Harry Potter,” she paused and looked up at Albus, before waving a dismissive hand. “But that’s not the point. You can’t let your dad determine who you are or who you’re gonna be. That’s not his responsibility, it’s yours. I learned that years ago… It's, uhh, a long story. Involving multiple deaths.”

But Albus was eager to find Scorpius and talk about what they’d both seen in the lesson, so he excused himself from the classroom and ran down the corridor to catch up. He found him outside the Great Hall, and shouted his name over the crowd of students.

When Scorpius turned, there were tears in his eyes, and Albus slowed to a stop in front of him with a deep frown on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“I’m still sorry. It’s rubbish, what’s happening to your mum. And it’s not fair.”

Scorpius shrugged and glanced around at the other students, before looking back at Albus. “Does your dad really say those things to you?”

He winced. “No. But he’s probably right.”

“No he isn’t,” Scorpius cut him off, shaking his head furiously. “I was so disappointed when I heard Slytherin wouldn’t be doing Potions with Gryffindor this year. You’re one of the best students in that class. I’ve learned so much from you.”

Albus flushed red, utterly taken aback by the compliment. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

A group of students from their year walked by, whispering about the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Albus watched as Scorpius looked up at them, clearly unaware of their conversation as his expression was innocent and open in ways Albus was certain he himself had never been. But this reminded him of an idea he'd had earlier that morning. “Do you want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“Hogsmeade? This weekend?” Scorpius questioned, an amused smile growing on his face. “Albus, have you even gotten to Friday yet? Let alone survived today?”

Albus hadn’t thought this through. “Well, no, but -  _ _if__  we ever get to the weekend, will you go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Scorpius laughed, and Albus’ heart lightened immediately. “Alright. Hogsmeade ahoy.”

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

To the pleasant surprise of the boys, and neither more so than Albus - they not only made it through to Friday, but they also survived until the weekend and found themselves on their way to Hogsmeade on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

After first dropping by Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop to stock up on parchment for school, they went to Tomes and Scrolls and spent a good hour perusing the shelves - finally leaving with a book each under their arms. Albus had found a book on Potions that he hadn’t seen before, and which Scorpius confirmed was not in the Hogwarts library, while Scorpius found a Muggle children’s book he insisted was his and his mother’s favourite when he was growing up. It was apparently a rare edition, with different illustrations and translation to any in their collection - which had Scorpius beside himself with excitement.

They’d already stocked up on food earlier that day for a picnic outside of Hogsmeade, filling their bags with pastries and sandwiches at the breakfast table, but they still visited Honeysdukes at the bequest of Scorpius who insisted that ‘no picnic is complete without sweets’.

On their way out of the village - Albus peered through the shop window of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and, once satisfied that his uncle was nowhere in sight and therefore probably working at the Diagon Alley branch for the day, he led Scorpius inside and they spent hours toying with stock and teasing each other with Screaming Yo-Yo’s and Comb-a-Chameleons. In the end they left empty handed, as they had already spent all their money in the other stores, but Albus made a promise to himself that he would buy Scorpius a Pygmy Puff one day, if they ever got out of their predicament. He’d never seen anyone so besotted with the little things.

Their purchases made, and with much of the afternoon still to spare, they left Hogsmeade and walked along the path back to Hogwarts until they found a sunny spot under a large Alder tree. Albus unfurled a picnic blanket as Scorpius went through their bags and set up the food - sneaking sweets as he did, which Albus pretended not to notice.

Once settled, the boys tucked into lunch and discussed the lessons they didn’t have together throughout the week - clearly avoiding the topic of the curse, for which Albus was grateful. He didn’t want to think about it. He’d never made it this far before and for the first time in months he felt a sense of security and safety, largely due to the bright eyed boy sitting across from him with his purchase from the bookstoreand some ribbon in his lap.

As Albus watched him carefully tie the blue ribbon around the book, biting his lip all the while in concentration, he couldn’t help but smile. “Tell me about her?” Scorpius looked up. “About your mum?”

He gulped, tracing a finger over the raised font on the cover of his book. “Well, she’s clever and honest and funny. Creative and - and kind.” Albus listened with delight. These were all words he would use to describe Scorpius. “She's stronger than people think. I’m proud - to be her son.”

“I want to meet her.”

If Scorpius was surprised by Albus’ insistent tone, he didn’t let on as he shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Well, you can floo to my house the next time we die and go back to the day before term starts. I have breakfast in the dining hall with my mum and dad before we leave for London.”

But Albus shook his head. “No. I want to meet her now.”

Scorpius laughed. “Are you suggesting we leave Hogwarts and flee to my parent’s house, halfway across the country? It’s a bit of a risk, don’t you think?”

“Not if we use the fireplace in McGonagall’s office,” Albus insisted, standing up and grabbing his backpack. He was determined to see this through. “We can use the invisibility cloak again. We’ll be back before dinner. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Scorpius raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, blinking up at Albus. “Uh, we could die?”

Albus groaned. He fell right into that one. “Alright. I  _ _promise__  we won’t die. Are you coming or not?”

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

To Albus’ surprise, the easiest part was getting into Professor McGonagall’s office. Once they found out the password, and waited for her to leave, it was only a matter of waiting until the hallway was clear before they entered themselves. Really the only difficult thing was dragging Scorpius away from all the fascinating sights and interesting pieces the headmistress stored on shelves and glass cupboards in her office.

Albus had never imagined Professor McGonagall as much of a collector, although he’d admittedly never thought about her outside of her role in the school. And he didn’t have much time to think about that as Scorpius tried in vain to introduce him to an incredibly disinterested portrait of Professor Snape. “But he’s your namesake, Albus!” He whined. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“Not in the slightest,” Albus responded, as he eyed the large fireplace at the back of the office. There was an unassuming tray sitting on top of the mantelpiece, which Albus hoped had enough floo powder for the pair of them.  

“Professor Snape!” Albus turned and watched as the portrait, who seemed as though he was about to leave, glanced over his shoulder at Scorpius. “Sir! Mister Professor Snape - sir.”

“Scorpius -”

“It’s - wow - it is an honour.” Then his eyes went wide and he half bowed, then stood upright and continued. “Sir. Professor.  _Ahh_.”

Albus rolled his eyes and made his way up to the fireplace. Once there he stood on his toes and peered at the tray, grinning when he found it full of powder. There was a small movement out of the corner of his eye and he looked up. It was the sorting hat, sitting on one of the many shelves behind the large desk. Although the hat was without eyes or any sort of discernible face, Albus couldn’t help but feel as though it was watching him and had been watching him all along.

Taking a chance, he spoke to the hat - and hoped it was listening. “If I hadn’t asked to be put in Gryffindor, where would you have put me?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Mister Potter,” the hat replied, through the tear in its fabric.

Albus frowned, dimly aware of the sounds of Scorpius moving towards him. He whispered his next question, “Then why did you put me in Gryffindor if I don’t belong there?”

“Because you asked.”

Scorpius shrieked from behind him and Albus span around, terrified that he had stepped on some sort of trap or picked up an enchanted artefact and was crying out in pain, but found instead that he was standing in front of a bookcase. As Scorpius scanned the titles, his head tilted to the side (an odd quirk Albus had noticed in the bookstore earlier), he beckoned him over with an excited gesture. “Albus, have you seen these books?”

“No, of course I haven’t,” he replied, as he grabbed the tray of floo powder off the mantelpiece. The hat had made him uneasy and he was anxious to leave the office. “We should go, before McGonagall gets back.”

Scorpius looked over his shoulder. “Oh! Of course, sorry.”

Albus tapped the side of the tray with his fingers and watched as Scorpius joined him next to the fireplace. “We can have a look when we get back?” 

Scorpius beamed and nodded, before looking down at the tray.

“After you?” Albus asked.

He watched as Scorpius grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire, which erupted in green flames. He stepped in, turned and, still beaming at Albus, he shouted “Malfoy Manor!” before vanishing. Albus glanced up at the sorting hat. It stared back at him in silence as he stepped into the flames and announced “Malfoy Manor,” to the empty office.

When he stumbled out of the fireplace on the other end, he found himself in a vast hall filled with large paintings and ornate furniture. Soft afternoon light was pouring in through the windows and catching on Scorpius' hair as he steadied Albus who, still taking in the general grandeur of the room, said, "Yikes."

Scorpius laughed incredulously. "Yikes?"

“Well, it’s really - big,” he replied with a shrug.

“Yes, Albus - manors are typically big.”  

“Shut up,” Albus laughed, playfully nudging Scorpius as they made their way out of the hall. “Where do you think your mum is now?”

Scorpius glanced out a window as they walked downstairs. “She’s probably in the garden.”

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was behind the manor as they went across the grounds - Albus pulling his sleeves down over his hands against the slight chill in the air, with Scorpius strolling cheerfully ahead of him. There was a flash of colour among the rose bushes and Albus stopped in the middle of the footpath, openly gawking at what he found. “Are those - peacocks?”

“Yes, that’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,” Scorpius responded, casually.

Albus blinked at him, as one of the birds raised its head and squawked. "Rose and - what?"

"Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. They're characters from Hamlet! I named all of them myself," He explained, smiling fondly at the pair. Then he looked back at Albus and tugged on his sleeve. "I think we should try the greenhouse. It's a bit too chilly out here."

As they walked around the manor and towards a large glass greenhouse, Scorpius asked Albus if he ever had any pets. “We had a cat named Lasagne when I was growing up.” At Scorpius’ expression, he shrugged and added, “Lily named him.”

Once inside, the air quickly changed as they found themselves surrounded by tall plants and exotic flowers and herbs. It was so much warmer and Albus briefly considered taking his bomber jacket off, but then he saw her.

At the very end of the greenhouse, sitting in a wheelchair with a dark coat draped over the back, was Astoria Malfoy. Peering around the towering plants and dense foliage, Albus watched as various leaves and flower petals danced in time to the delicate movements of her wand, before falling into a neat pile on a tray in her lap. Her expression was serene, a blissful smile on her face that immediately struck Albus as oddly familiar. As the boys approached her, he realized where he’d seen it before - in the library, on the train, and under a tree just outside of Hogsmeade. It was Scorpius’ smile.

Although her son had bumped into at least three pots and awoken a now deeply annoyed plant on their way through the greenhouse, she seemed too rapt in her task to notice either of them.

Scorpius cleared his throat. “Mum?”

Astoria looked up. “Scorpius? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he explained, closing the distance between them as Albus quietly trailed behind. “And I have a present for you.”

Astoria lifted the tray off her lap and placed it on a nearby table, before reaching for her son’s hand. “I wish you’d sent an owl, your father is in London until tomorrow.”

Scorpius made a noise, swinging his mother’s hand between them and impatiently rapping his fingers on the book clasped at his side. “That’s okay. I’ll see him next time.”

Astoria shook her head and smiled up at him. “I have you all to myself, then? He’ll be so jealous. And what’s this about a present?” Scorpius held it out and her eyes went wide. “Oh, I’ve been looking for this copy for  _ _years__. Where did you get it?”

“Hogsmeade! Albus and I went there for lunch today.”

Astoria, who had been eagerly untying the ribbon around the book, looked up with a frown. “Albus?”

“Oh!” Scorpius gasped, turning back towards him and beaming. “Sorry. This is Albus Potter.”

“Hi,” said Albus, with an awkward wave.

She tilted her head at him and smiled. “Hello, Albus. It’s lovely to meet you.” Then she turned and handed the book back to her son. “Darling, could you take this inside and ask for afternoon tea to be served a little early?”

Scorpius nodded and made for the door, tugging Albus’ sleeve as he went - signaling for him to follow. But Astoria called after them, “Albus, would you mind staying and helping me with something?”

He stopped and glanced at Scorpius, who shrugged and gave him an encouraging look before leaving the greenhouse. Astoria took her blue gardening gloves off and placed them in her lap as she watched Albus in silence. Her dark brown hair was loose about her shoulders - framing her soft features and kind, warm eyes. She was very beautiful.

“When did you and Scorpius start talking to each other? He’s never mentioned it before,” she said, suddenly.

“Oh. Umm - on the train, this week,”Albus explained. “We were in the same compartment.”

Astoria nodded, pursing her lips as she gazed out of the greenhouse windows, towards the manor and her son’s retreating figure. Then she looked back up at Albus. “I only ask because… Scorpius has been struggling to make friends at school. The ones he does make are usually performing some cruel prank or trick for their friends. Sometimes they only want to talk to him because they need help with their schoolwork, and of course he says yes. It’s in his nature.”

Albus was appalled. “I’m not - I would never do that.” He stopped and dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he struggled to verbalise his feelings. “Scorpius is… he’s wonderful. I’ve never met anyone like him and I can’t - I could never use him. I hope you know that.”

Astoria considered him for a moment and then smiled. “It’s alright, I’m not going to interrogate you.” She paused, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “That’s Draco’s job.” Albus beamed, in spite of himself, and found that he was becoming more and more at ease around her. “Do you like plants, Albus?”

“Uncle Ne-” He stopped, frowning at his own slip up. “I mean, Professor Longbottom wishes I did. But I’m more into Potions.”

“Come with me,” Astoria said, and then turned her wheelchair around and started making her way towards the back of the greenhouse. Albus followed her in silence, still frowning to himself, until they came upon a long shelf filled with potted plants and he spotted one - towering over the others, with long cascading vines and bright yellow blossoms - and immediately gasped.

“Is that what I think it is?” He asked, watching as Astoria stopped at the end of the shelf and smiled at him. It was so similar to the drawings he’d seen in books, only they were all in black and white. The plant itself was such a vivid shade of green, and its characteristic patterns on the leaves were so much more intricate than he ever imagined. “This is so rare.”

“Only found in a small pocket of coastline in Norway. I know,” Astoria replied. “I found it here, when I was exploring the grounds. My mother in law had no idea what it was, or how powerful it is. Do you know what it does?”

“It’s used in healing potions. Or, it should be, but the crop in Norway died out years ago and it was never replicated. It’s said to be more effective than any other ingredient,” Albus explained, leaning forward to get a closer look. “I’ve only seen it in books. Is it always like this? It’s so - lush.”

“Only later in the year. And it only blooms in September. I’ve been trying to grow it outside the greenhouse, but it won’t take root.” All the while, Astoria had been filling a pot with soil, and Albus only noticed when she reached over and trimmed the plant. “Maybe you have some ideas?” She asked, digging the off-cut into the soil and then handing the pot over to him. “Or perhaps your uncle can help?”

Albus stared at the yellow blossoms, peeking out of the soil, and then looked back at her. “He’s - he’s not really my uncle. I used to think he was, as a kid. So I called him uncle Neville.”

Astoria smiled and nodded. “Well, maybe it’s something you and Scorpius can figure out together.”

As he stared down at her, beaming up at him with such warmth and kindness, the weight of her gift in his hands - his heart sank. “I can’t take this.”

Astoria frowned. “Why not?”

Albus looked away, unable to meet her gaze. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, but it was all he had. “Something happened when we went back to school. I can’t - I can’t tell you why or how, but - it’s my fault.” He paused, swallowing hard. “And Scorpius… He’s trying to fix it, but - I know he can’t, it’s too late, and I just - he’s so -” Albus blinked, his hands trembling as his vision blurred with tears.

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met and - I’ve never been happier than I’ve been this past week with him, but… he doesn’t know what - what I’ve done - and I can’t - I just -” He stopped, tears dribbling down his cheeks as Astoria took the plant from him and held his hands in her’s. They were warm and grounding and he suddenly felt incredibly unworthy.

“Albus…” She started, stroking the back of his hands with her thumbs. “I want you to go back to school. Have some dinner, think this over, and then talk to him. I promise he’ll listen. And he’ll understand.” She leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze, and Albus finally looked at her. “Whatever this is, it’ll be alright. You’ll work it out - together. But please don’t feel like you can’t talk to one of your teachers or your parents. You’re not alone.”

He let go of one of her hands to wipe his face with his sleeve. He felt incredibly stupid and ashamed, crying in front of a total stranger.  

But there was something so undeniably familiar and comforting about Astoria. He’d told her what he had struggled, all week, to tell Scorpius. And it had lifted a small weight off his shoulders.

“He’s coming back,” she said, patting his hand as she looked out the window. Albus made a sorry attempt at composing himself, but felt certain his eyes and face were still red when Scorpius came back from the house and looked at them both with an oblivious smile. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I think we might have to reschedule lunch,” Astoria explained. “I’m not feeling up to it after all. And maybe we could wait for a day when your father is home?”

His shoulder’s dropped. “Oh. That’s okay," Scorpius replied, his voice betraying his disappointment. Nonetheless, he smiled and went to his mother’s open arms when she beckoned him over and kissed his cheek in farewell.

It made Albus ache for his own mother, watching them together. He tried to push it away. He had no right to be jealous. But it hung over him, like a dark cloud, even as they left the manor behind them and returned to Hogwarts. It made him think of home. It made him think of huge dinners with his family, Christmas at the Burrow, and his mother in her own garden - calling him down from his room to help her with the vegetable patch. He started saying no, whenever she asked. And then one day she stopped asking.

“It must be a bad day,” Scorpius said, quietly as they walked down to dinner, and Albus looked over at him. “She only uses the wheelchair on bad days.”

Albus didn’t know how to respond, and could only watch in silence as Scorpius left him for the Slytherin table once they arrived in the great hall. They didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the evening, and most of the following day, until Albus received an owl from Scorpius asking to meet in the library after lunch. When he arrived, he found him sitting at one of the desks between the towering bookshelves. But he wasn’t alone.

“Why would  _ _anyone__  want to hang out with  _ _you__?” Polly Chapman scoffed, leaning against the bookshelf and scowling down at Scorpius. “Albus Potter and the son of Voldemort? Albus Potter and the child of Death Eaters! How ridiculous!”

Albus flushed red, already storming over to them as Yann Fredericks laughed and poked at the stack of books on the desk until they toppled over. Scorpius scrambled to pick them up, his lower lip trembling as he brushed the cover of one that had fallen on the floor. While he was distracted, Yann picked up another, and was about to drop it when he spotted Albus.

“Put that down,” he growled, Polly and Scorpius both looking up at him. “Leave him alone.”

There was a silence, as they all stared at him, but Polly was the first to speak - crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at Albus. “We were just talking about you.”

“Yeah, I noticed. So did half the library,” he replied, glaring up at her. “Are you finished? Can you leave us alone now?”

Polly looked over at Yann, who gave her an incredulous look, and then she pushed herself off her perch on the bookshelf and stepped over to him. “Albus - be serious,” she said, in low tones. “Don’t you know who he is? Surely you’re not trying to be friends with  _ _him__.”

Before he could respond, Scorpius spoke up from his seat at the desk, “It’s alright, Albus, we can talk later.”

Polly turned and glared at him. While she was distracted, Albus slipped something into her bag. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to bring food into the library?”

She looked back at him, scowling. “What? I know  _ _that__ , and I don’t have any food.”

As if summoned by their conversation, Madam Pince appeared at Albus’ shoulder and looked down at Polly. “Your bag, Miss Chapman, if you please.”

She pouted up at the librarian, but nonetheless opened her bag - revealing a pumpkin pasty sitting on top of her schoolbooks. “That’s - that’s not mine. I don’t even eat those!” She shouted. And then she rounded on Scorpius and pointed at him. “He put it in there!”

But Madam Pince was having none of it and forced her out of the library, Yann following closely behind. Albus dumped his bag underneath the desk and sighed, before taking a seat. “Sorry about that that,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“That - was - brilliant!” Scorpius exclaimed. “Did you plant that in her bag? While she was talking?”

Albus shrugged. “I couldn’t think of a better way to get her to leave,” he paused, sitting forward in his seat. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

Scorpius nodded, leaning towards Albus. “I was thinking about what you said, on the train. You said that - you thought you were already dead. Why do you think that?”

Albus blanched and looked away, utterly taken off guard. “I don’t know - it’s just a feeling.”

“Oh… Well,” Scorpius said, his brow puckering in deep thought. “Do you remember how you died, the first time? You’ve never told me.”

“You never asked,” Albus interjected. “And, anyway, I don’t know. I just remember waking up on the train and knowing that I was dead and everything was repeating itself.”

“Wait, you wake up on the train? Not at home?”

“Yeah,” Albus replied, casually, before he saw Scorpius’ look of concern and frowned. “I don’t think it means anything.”

He watched as his friend’s eyes widened and knew that a rant was coming. “Maybe that’s what we’re missing. Maybe that’s the answer.” When he saw that Albus wasn’t following him, he placed his hands on the desk and explained, “On the first day of term, before all this started, I looked for you on the train and at Hogwarts. But you weren’t there and neither were your brother and sister. Maybe something happened before you got to King’s Cross? Maybe that’s what started all this. Can you remember anything from the day before term?”

Albus swallowed, hard, and shook his head - avoiding eye contact with Scorpius. “No, that’s not it. That’s not the solution.”

“What do you mean?”

He dragged his hands over his face and looked over at him, his hands clasped under his nose. “I’m sorry, Scorpius, but that’s just not it. We’ll have to try something else.”

“Albus, we’ve tested every theory except this one. It’s all we’ve got - why won’t you trust me?” Scorpius asked, his voice raised and his eyes wild with confusion.

“Why won’t you trust me?” He snapped back.

Scorpius flinched. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. You’ve been doing that since first year, but you can’t, Albus - not right now, not in the middle of all this.”

Albus moved away, pulling his sleeves down over his hands, and feeling smaller and smaller by the second. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispered.

“I tried to talk to you. I thought we could be friends, but you never let me in,” Scorpius explained, bitterly. “Do you have any idea how that felt? And you’re still doing it, even now.” He suddenly stood up and started packing his things, while Albus sat in miserable silence. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. If I have to test this theory on my own, I will. Goodbye, Albus.”

And Scorpius left the library, without a second glance, while Albus stayed. He stared at the space Scorpius had left and pulled at his sleeves until the threads of the jumper came loose and spiralled into his palms. He looked down at them and all he could think was how disappointed his grandmother would be that he'd ruined another jumper. It didn’t even occur to him that it didn’t matter, the jumper would be good as new the next time he woke up on the Hogwarts Express. But he still cried over the pieces of red wool - alone in the library, and totally unaware of how soon he would be finding himself on that train again.  

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

As soon as Scorpius found himself standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom at home again after falling down the stairs in his rush to leave the library back at school, he wasted no time in making his way down to the dining room.

“Scorpius, what is it?” His mother asked from her seat at the table. “What are you doing?”

He glanced down at the pot of floo powder, before looking back up at his parents with an apologetic expression. “I have to go see Albus Potter.”

“ _ _Albus Potter__?” His father sneered over his newspaper. “What the devil for?”

Scorpius opened his mouth to explain, but was suddenly overcome by an inability to breathe and a horrible tightness in his chest. The floo powder clattered to the floor and he felt his parent’s arms around him, although he couldn’t remember seeing them cross the room. Suddenly he was lying on his back - his father reciting diagnostic spells they were all familiar with at St Mungo’s, while his mother stroked his hair and sobbed his name over and over.

He blinked and he was in front of the mirror in his bathroom again. Only, the mirror was gone. Distraught, Scorpius raised a hand to touch the tiled surface of the wall - but it was as if there had never been anything there before. He went downstairs with a hand over his chest, his fingers brushing his collarbone. He’d had a heart attack. The shortness of breath, the dizziness, the unbearable pain - it was the only explanation.

When he walked into the dining room and saw his mother, smiling at him, he had to bite back a sob before he spoke, “Where’s the mirror? The one in my bathroom. It’s gone.”

“There’s never been a mirror in that bathroom,” Astoria replied. She offered him her hand and a concerned expression. “Are you alright?”

Scorpius glanced over at the fireplace and frowned, before taking his mother’s hand and sitting down at the table with a deep feeling of hopelessness.

Later that morning, Scorpius slowly made his way down the carriage towards the regular compartment he and Albus occupied on their journeys to Hogwarts. He had been waiting to see him all morning but, now that he was moments away from seeing him, he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Their argument in the library was weighing on his mind. He hadn’t meant anything he’d said. And he couldn’t get the image of Albus, shrinking into his seat as he shouted at him, out of his mind.

When he finally came to their compartment, he peered inside and tapped on the glass. Albus looked over at him and nodded when he mouthed, “can I come in?”

He stepped inside and stowed his luggage, before taking his seat and looking over at Albus. His eyes were red and his expression was distant. Scorpius felt his heart break, a little. “I’m sorry about before, in the library,” He started. “I just… I’m scared. I don’t want to do this alone.”

“I’m sorry too,” Albus replied, quietly. The train suddenly took off, and a group of students shouted with glee in the compartment next door, but the two boys took no notice. “I need to tell you something. I remembered -”

Scorpius held up a hand and shook his head. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. We’ll try something else - find something else. Surely there’s some books we haven’t read yet? I know the restricted section didn’t go very well last time - but if we’re more careful, if we just -”

“Scorpius,” Albus cut him off. He paused, watching patiently as the boy across the compartment struggled to find his next words. “I remembered what happened. It’s my fault. The night before term started, my family went to the Burrow for dinner and I stayed behind. I told them I wasn’t feeling well, but - I just - I didn’t want to go back to school. And… I thought if I just…” 

Scorpius felt his stomach drop and all he could see was Albus looking away from him on the train during their second journey back to Hogwarts - Albus returning to his seat after his encounter with the Boggart with his shoulders hunched over in defeat - Albus collapsing in on himself in the library as he shouted at him.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to go so far, it was so stupid, I was so stupid, but -” He paused, gasping for air as tears streamed down his cheeks. “It was an accident.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on this one, it went on for a lot longer than expected! The last two chapters are almost done, I think I will publish them together as they're both a lot shorter and really should be read in one sitting. Let me know what you think of the story so far - this fic is my bizarre, incredibly niche baby, and I love her :")


	5. the way out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! Sorry this one took so long for me to finish. I don't think anyone bar two or three people are actually reading this, but if you are: hello! Thank you!

Scorpius crossed the compartment and dropped to his knees in front of Albus, who was crouched over his stomach, his face obscured from view as his whole body trembled with sobs. Undeterred, Scorpius grasped him by the shoulders and leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of those bright green eyes. “Albus…” he murmured. “Albus, look at me.”

He looked up, his eyes swimming with tears, his whole expression filled with profound unhappiness - and Scorpius couldn’t take it anymore. He wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his shoulder as Albus wept. His jumper was getting soaked with tears, but he didn’t care. And the movement and sudden jolts of the train constantly threatened to knock them over, but he didn’t care - he just held on tighter.

When Albus finally pulled away and rubbed his eyes, Scorpius sat back on the floor with his head resting on the opposite seat and watched as he composed himself.

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” He muttered, without looking up. “I’m dead. For real.”

“But I’m still here. We’re not dead,” Scorpius replied, nudging Albus’ leg until he looked back at him.

“Does it matter? I started this whole thing, I did this to us,” he said, between gasps.

He seemed on the verge of crying again and Scorpius sat forward, placing a hand on his knee. “No - no, Albus. This is not your fault. And it doesn’t… that can’t be it. If your death started this, then why am I here?” 

He sniffed, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

“I saw you, at the end of third year,” Scorpius started, tracing a soothing circle on Albus’ knee with the tip of his index finger. “You looked so lonely. I wanted to talk you, I wanted to see if you were okay, but I didn’t. If I’d talked to you - maybe things would have been different and we would have started term together. Maybe that’s where all this started.”

“If that’s true, how can we fix it?”

“We could try and find that Time-Turner.” Sensing an opportunity, Scorpius shrugged his shoulders and gave Albus a look. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

It had the desired effect and Albus broke into a small smile. “We can try and get off the train once we pass into Scotland. There has to be some brooms in the luggage carriage, right? I know James brought his.”

“As appealing as escaping off a moving magical train with you sounds - yay, fun - how long do you think we’d survive? We’ve been killed by a book, Albus. A book.”

The small smile widened into a brilliant grin. “You’re not going to let that one go, are you?”

“Never,” Scorpius replied, beaming back at him. “But maybe we should wait until we get to Hogwarts. We don’t even know where the Time-Turner is.”

He looked out the window at the rolling countryside, deep in thought. Every time they approached a solution, they died again. If only they had more time. If they could just find out where the Time-Turner was, maybe that would be enough to fix things.

From across the compartment, he heard a gasp. He looked up at Albus and found him hunched over, a look of shock and agony on his face. He immediately stood up and sat down next to him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Albus? Albus. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t - breathe - Scorpius,” Albus choked, clutching at his arms and chest, his eyes full of terror and desperation. Scorpius held him fast, searching his mind wildly for something he could do - anything, anything to stop his only friend’s pain. “Scorpius - please - help.”

As soon as Scorpius found himself back in the bathroom, at home again, he burst into tears. The image of Albus’ face twisted with horror and pain was still so fresh in his mind. After gathering himself, he slowly made his way downstairs - only for his heart to sink all over again as soon as he laid eyes on the familiar sight of his father, standing alone with a tray of food in his hands.

“Scorpius,” he said, a weary smile on his face. “Your mother had a bad night. She will be taking breakfast in bed this morning.”

“Can I take it up to her?”

He made his way upstairs to the master bedroom and found his mother, sitting in the dark and massaging her temples with her face twisted in pain. When he knocked on the door, she looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Scorpius.”

“Morning, mum,” he replied, as he walked into the room and placed the breakfast tray on the bed - careful not to dislodge the glass of water or the knife and fork.

He was about to say something else, but he hesitated. Astoria watched him and smiled. “How are you feeling about today?”

“It’s not - that,” he said, anxiously. “There’s something else. I haven’t told you.”

“What is it?”

Scorpius sat on the bed and let out a long sigh before looking back up at his mother. He had to tell her. He had to tell someone. So he did.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he murmured, after explaining everything he and Albus had been through. “And I don’t know if I want to fix it, because - what if time goes back to normal, and you… you keep getting more ill and… What if I fix it, but - but I lose you?”

Astoria had been silent, listening dutifully as he unpacked everything. And when she finally spoke, Scorpius felt a lump rise in his throat. “Sweetheart... I know how hard this has been for you. But look at me.” He did, taking in her expression of warmth and love. “It’s okay. It’s okay to be angry, it’s okay to want things to be different. But I don’t want you to sacrifice anything for me.”

“Mum, I-”

“When we had you, it was the best day of my life. And I wouldn’t change anything. You’ve made me so happy. I look at you and you’re so brave and strong and…” She paused, reaching out and taking his hand. “Scorpius, you shouldn’t have to be. You shouldn’t have to consider losing everything for me.”

Scorpius closed his eyes, squeezing her hand. “I just wish we had more time.”

“I know. But I won’t let you go through this for me. I want you to live, Scorpius. I want you to be happy, I want you to have what your father and I have - with each other, with you. You’re our greatest joy.” At that, Scorpius burst into tears, and his mother pulled him into her arms. “Oh, darling. I know you’re scared. But you have to do this. For yourself. For Albus. I know you’ll figure it out. But until then, I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you, mum.”

“I love you too.”  

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

When Scorpius boarded the Hogwarts Express later that morning, he hurriedly made his way to their regular compartment at the end of the last carriage. He was so eager to see Albus that he had to stop himself from wrenching the door open when he arrived and found that he was fast asleep. Quietly, he made his way into the compartment and sat across from Albus - not bothering to stow away his suitcase for fear of waking him up.

As Scorpius watched the sunlight dancing across his face he realised, with delight, that he was smiling in his sleep. It was such an innocent gesture that spoke of an Albus in childhood, that wasn’t old enough for Hogwarts. An Albus who didn’t yet know what it meant to be Harry Potter’s son.

There was a deep blue notebook sticking out of Albus’ bag. It was clearly falling apart. The spine had come loose and pages were sticking out haphazardly - pages that seemed to be filled with clean lines of pencil. Curious, Scorpius reached over and pulled the notebook out of the bag, gently balancing the spine in the palm of his hand as he flicked through the first few pages.

It was a sketchbook. And it was filled with drawings of people - some that Scorpius knew, some he hadn’t seen before. There was Lily and James eating dinner at the Gryffindor table. Hugo Granger-Weasley listening intently to someone unseen, his chin balanced on his hand and his freckled face in deep concentration. Yann Fredericks embracing Polly Chapman - who was laughing with delight. Rose in the library, her wand in her hair and a book in her hand.

All of them were quiet moments, captured by Albus in such warm and beautiful detail, and Scorpius was stunned. He ran his fingertips across the pages, trying to soak in everything he could. He was so absorbed in committing the sketches to memory that he didn’t even notice that Albus had woken up and was watching him in silence.

When he finally noticed he was being watched, he looked up and slammed the sketchbook shut. “Sorry. I was just - curious,” he explained, already moving to hand it back. But Albus reached over and tugged at a loose page within the book, giving Scorpius an expression that suggested he take a closer look at it. He obliged and gasped out loud as he did.

It was him. It was a sketch of him. But it was so unlike the others. It was done in delicate watercolours, each line so smooth and precise, and it was an enchanted piece. While the other sketches he’d seen were made with Muggle pencils, this one was not.

As Scorpius watched, the drawing’s eyes crinkled with delight as he laughed. His cheeks were rosy from a chill made real by the magic of Albus’ hand - he could almost feel it, coming off the page like a gentle morning breeze.

“Was this from before all of this? Before we started talking?” He already knew the answer, but Albus nodded regardless. “It’s beautiful, Albus. I don’t know what to say.”

“I’d give it to you, but it’ll just go back to the same place when we die again.”

When he turned the page and looked up for permission to continue, Albus shrugged, and Scorpius leafed through the pages with reverence. “These are brilliant, Albus. Truly.”

“They’re just rough sketches. I do them when I’m bored - which is a lot of the time, these days,” he explained, indifferently.

“Just rough-” Scorpius spluttered. “Albus, they’re gorgeous. I mean it.”

He thought he saw the ghost of a smile pass Albus’ lips, but it was gone before he could catch it. “Are we just going to ignore what happened yesterday?” He asked, quietly.

Scorpius sighed, closing the sketchbook and passing it back across the compartment. “No. It’s just - you scared me, Albus. What was that?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t breathe and there was this tightness in my chest,” He explained, his hand moving over his heart and up to his neck. “And then I just blacked out.”

“It happened when we were discussing the Time-Turner, didn’t it? Have you noticed that we always die when we’re trying to figure out how to get out of this?” Albus nodded and Scorpius sighed, wringing his hands as he continued, “I think the same thing happened to me at home. After we argued and then reset, I - well I tried to go see you at your house. I collapsed before I could even get to the fireplace.”

Albus shrunk back into his seat, blinking rapidly at the floor of the train compartment. Scorpius was instantly reminded of their last discussion in that same carriage and leaned forward with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry - about all this. If I hadn’t -” he paused, letting out a shuddering breath. “We wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for me.”

There was a question on Scorpius’ lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.

“I thought if I just kept going, if I just ignored everyone and stayed quiet and kept my head down, maybe it would get better. Maybe this empty feeling would go away. But - I just made everything worse. Not just for me, but for you, and - and I haven’t seen my parents… in so long.”

Scorpius made an aborted move to touch his knee, but then decided to just get up and cross the compartment to sit next to him. “Except you’re not alone,” he said, softly. “I’m right here, Albus. I’m not going anywhere.”

Albus shook his head. “I’m sorry this happened to us. To you.”

“Have I told you about my mum?” He asked. “She’s not getting any better. The curse, it - spreads. Soon she won’t be able to walk anymore and after that we don’t know how long she’ll have. But every time I die and I wake up again - she’s still here, like nothing’s changed.”

“If we fix things, if we get out of this - she’ll still be sick, but she’ll keep getting worse. Are you sure you want that?”

Scorpius gulped and looked away. “I can’t hold on to her forever. She’s suffering. And - I’m not making it better. I have to let her go.”

“Scorpius, you’re bleeding.”

He raised a hand to the tip of his nose, staring at the blood on his fingertips when he pulled them away. “Oh.”

It was just like before, back at home when he tried to leave via the floo network, except this time he felt so incredibly dizzy. But Albus was there to catch him before he fell off his seat. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you, just - I’ll see you on the train tomorrow, alright?”


	6. ariadne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for suicidal references

There was a moment, as Scorpius slowly woke in an armchair by the fire at home, where he forgot everything. He forgot about Albus, he forgot about their predicament. He almost pulled the blanket on his lap up over his shoulders and went back to sleep, but then realisation dawned on him and his eyes snapped open. His mother looked at him, serenely, from her seat across from his. She had a book open on her lap and a mug of steaming tea in her hand.

“I think you should turn in for the night, Scorpius,” Astoria said, smiling at him as she set aside her mug and book. “You fell asleep about an hour ago. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Scorpius almost wept with relief. He remembered the evening before his first day back at Hogwarts so clearly. His mother had sat with him, in this very spot, and they had talked until he fell asleep. He woke later that evening to his father insisting he go up to his own bed.

They’d done it. He had no idea how, or why, but he and Albus had fixed the timeline. Scorpius’ eyes widened and he stood up, the blanket falling to the floor. __Albus.__ Casting about for his robe, he found it slung over the back of his chair and hastily snatched it up. Putting it on, he took in his mother’s look of concern and frowned. He couldn’t just up and leave without telling her something, anything.

“Mum,” he began. “I have to go see Albus Potter. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

Her brows knit together in confusion as Scorpius tied his robes and pocketed his wand. “Albus Potter? Why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain it now, but something may have happened and I just…” He paused, suddenly overwhelmed by the image of Albus alone at the Potter house. What if he was too late? “I have to go see him. I promise I’ll be back in time for school tomorrow.”

Astoria looked at him, considering. And then she sighed and reached out for his hand. “I’ll tell your father that you’ve gone to bed. Whatever this is about, I trust you. But please come home soon.”

“I will,” Scorpius squeezed her hand and bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek. And then he rushed downstairs and took the floo network to the Potter house. 

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

When Albus woke up in his own bed, at home, his first instinct was to panic. He sat up and looked around - reaching for his wand and grasping at the sheets, smoothing his hand over the headboard and making fists in his pillow. It felt real. Could it be real?

Pushing the blankets aside, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and touched the cold wood floor with his bare feet. As he sat quietly and breathed in and out, the panic in the pit of his stomach slowly subsided. This was what they’d been trying to achieve, after all. If they went back in time, maybe they could change the past just enough to save each other.

But if it was true - if they’d succeeded - why was he so concerned? Almost as soon as he asked himself the question, he realised the answer. __Scorpius__. He missed Scorpius. Was he waking up in his own bed, on the same day? Would he be waiting for him on the train? Or would he want to forget everything that had happened to them and move on?

Albus leaned forward on his knees and dragged a hand over his face. There was a knock at the door and he looked up, but didn’t answer. The door slowly creaked open and his father peered into the bedroom - clothed in his favourite red pajamas, his mess of bed hair framed by the light of the hallway.

He spotted Albus and looked apologetic. “Sorry. I thought you were still asleep. I, umm - I made your favourite. I thought, if you want, maybe you could join us for breakfast? And - oh.” He stopped mid-sentence. Albus had bounded across the room and wrapped his arms around his father, burying his face in his flannel shirt. “Hello. Hey.”

They stayed like that in the doorway of his bedroom until Albus felt Harry tugging at his hoodie and leaning forward, trying to get a look at his face. Albus obliged - tilting his head back and meeting his father’s gaze. There was such love and warmth in his eyes that he almost burst into tears. He hadn’t seen his father in what felt like __years__ rather than weeks or months. He’d felt his absence more keenly with every passing moment as he trudged through the first days at Hogwarts, over and over again. There was so much he wanted to say to him. But in that moment he was lost for words.

“Albus, is everything alright?” Harry asked, squeezing his shoulder. Albus bit his lip. His eyes were filling with tears. “We don’t have to have pancakes, if it’s that upsetting.”

It was the kind of joke that would usually irritate Albus to no end, but he couldn’t help but laugh - although it came out as more of a half sob. Harry immediately bent down and peered at him with concern, only to break into a small smile when he saw one reflected there on his son’s face. Albus wiped his nose with his sleeve and spoke, “Sorry. Pancakes sound great.”

His father watched him in silence. He was clearly unconvinced, but Albus hoped he wouldn’t push the issue further. He wasn’t even sure how to explain what had happened to him. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to. After his first death, and before Scorpius, he’d spent every night in the Gryffindor dormitory dreaming about home and his parents. The memory of vivid nightmares and tangled sheets brought a fresh wave of tears and he looked at the ceiling, willing them to go away.

Unbidden, Harry pulled him into another hug. Albus buried his face in his shoulder and sighed. He could hear his brother and sister downstairs, chatting animatedly to their mother. It filled his chest with warmth and security. Inspired, he murmured into his father’s shoulder, “I love you, dad.”

Harry pulled away and looked at him, confused. He hadn’t heard him. Albus repeated himself - although it was still scarcely more than a whisper. His father’s features softened and he reached up to smooth Albus’ hair, which he knew was likely just as messy as his own. “I love you too, Albus.”

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

Scorpius tumbled out of the fireplace and into the dark lounge room of the Potter house. He looked around, gathering his bearings for a moment. There was an unfinished chess game on the table in the centre of the room. The pieces looked up at him, hopefully, but scowled as he moved past them and into the kitchen. There were dishes in the sink - still unwashed. He looked upstairs and saw a light was on in one of the rooms.

“Albus!” He shouted, his voice full of desperation as he bounded up the stairs. “Albus, are you here? Albus?” He pushed open the door, steeling himself for whatever he was about to find inside. But the bathroom was empty. He looked up and spotted a shaft of soft, warm light coming from underneath another door at the very end of the hallway. “Please, please, please. Please, Albus, please be okay.”

As he approached the door, the light turned off. He hovered outside, uncertain. But before he could open the door, it opened itself and standing on the threshold was Albus Potter.

Scorpius gave a sob of relief and launched himself at him, but Albus stepped back into his room - a scowl on his face. “What the hell are you doing in my house, Scorpius?”

He reeled back, stunned by the tone of his words. But then he reminded himself that this wasn’t the Albus he knew - the Albus he’d spent sunlit mornings with on the train to Hogwarts, heads bent together in deep discussion over chocolate frogs and jelly slugs. This was the past, this was before they’d been through everything together - and the boy standing in front of him, with his wand in hand and a guarded expression on his face, was almost a stranger to him.

“I, umm. I can’t explain why, but - can I stay with you tonight? Until school tomorrow?” Scorpius asked, shifting under his piercing gaze.

Albus looked him up and down, taking in his green robes and bare feet. And then he sighed. “My parents aren’t home. They’re at the Burrow with my brother and sister.”

“I’m not here to see them,” Scorpius replied, pointedly, and then inclined his head towards the bedroom. “Can I come in?”

To his relief, Albus shrugged and stepped aside. The space within seemed plain and almost empty save for the double bed. There were books and clothes strewn across the floor, seemingly pouring out of the suitcase at the foot of the bed. Albus was clearly in the middle of packing for Hogwarts when he had arrived.

Scorpius sat down on the bed as Albus picked a paper lantern up off the floor and touched the base, filling the room with golden light. Holding the lantern aloft, he gave it a slight nudge and observed as it hovered cheerfully above their heads. It was by the warm glow of the lantern that Scorpius saw how red the boy’s eyes were - how miserable and withdrawn he looked.

Albus caught him staring and looked away. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he mumbled at his feet. “Wait here, I won’t be long.”

Scorpius watched him leave, uncertain what to do. He was unfamiliar with this Albus. Just looking at him, he could tell how guarded he was. He wasn’t sure how to help. How to explain everything, without scaring him off. Glancing over at the window, he settled with just being there. It would have to be enough.

There was a lion toy on the windowsill. Curious, he got up and made his way over - sitting down, picking up the lion and fiddling with its ears. Clearly the head had been ripped off at some point, years ago, and then sewn back on by hand. He was about to follow Albus out into the hall - he was taking far too long for his liking - when Scorpius caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and found scattered photographs and sketches, pinned to the low ceiling above him and only visible when he leaned back against the cool glass of the window.

They were all of Albus’ family. He recognised his parents and siblings immediately, all beaming down at him from the photographs and sketches. And then there were a few scattered images of Hugo, Rose, Ron, and Hermione - along with others he didn’t recognise on sight but knew instinctively were members of the extended Weasley family. But most of the images were of the Potters - on holidays, sitting at the dinner table, unwrapping presents at Christmas, laughing together, smiling together. With a frown, he realised that Albus wasn’t in any of the photographs. And he wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but they were all hidden from view in the little alcove of the windowsill. No one visiting his bedroom would see them unless they took a seat and looked up.

When Albus returned from the bathroom, he seemed a little more composed. He stood on the threshold of the bedroom, staring at Scorpius. “What now?”

He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Umm. I don’t know?” He paused, considering the room for a moment, before remembering the chess board downstairs in the lounge room. “We could play chess?”

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

When Albus came down for breakfast, his entire family was sitting at the table. James was regaling his sister with tales of his fifth year at Hogwarts, while Lily listened with rapt attention, Ginny ate her breakfast, and Harry flipped pancakes at the stove. With a shock, it occurred to Albus that it was really the morning of September 1st and he was actually finally home again. Lily was starting her second year, James his sixth, and Albus his fourth. His brother leaned forward and whispered something to Lily, who burst into fits of laughter. 

His mother was the first to spot him, standing alone on the threshold of the kitchen and observing the glowing moment without engaging with it. She smiled knowingly and, taking him by the hand, she led him to his seat at the table and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Finally decided to join us, little snake?” James asked, still smiling from whatever he had told Lily. “We were going to leave without you.”

Albus was still so stunned to be sitting at that table - surrounded by his family, finally home after everything that had happened - that he couldn’t respond, and just stared blankly at him.

James glanced over at their mother and then frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he responded, quickly. Lily was watching him and he met her gaze with a small smile. “You know, you shouldn’t believe everything James tells you about his time at Hogwarts.”

“Hey!” James exclaimed. “Don’t listen to him, Lil.”

“Actually, there was this one time James was in the Great Hall when he saw Cindy Morgan and he just-” He was cut off when James clapped a hand over his mouth.

“What? He what?” Lily implored him to continue, while looking between the pair of them as they wrestled with each other. But James was much stronger than Albus and quickly gained the upper hand, prodding his stomach until he roared with laughter.

“James, did you get your broom out of the shed last night?” Harry asked, as he put a plate of pancakes with poached eggs and bacon in front of Albus.

His eyes went wide as he climbed off his brother and stood up. “I’ll go get it now.” He was halfway out of the room, when he turned to Albus and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t.” Albus looked back at him and raised his hands in defeat. He left the kitchen and Albus was about to take a bite of his breakfast, when James poked his head back in the doorway and mouthed one single word, “ _ _no__.”

And then he disappeared again and Albus grinned before finally tucking into his pancakes. When they heard the back door slam, Lily perked up and leaned across the table, conspiratorially. “So what did he do? When he saw Cindy Morgan?”

“I’ll tell you later, when he’s not around,” Albus replied. “He might burst through the window and attack me with his broom.”

“Alright,” Lily giggled, then paused and smiled at him. “I like it when you’re like this. When you’re happy.”

Albus didn’t know how to respond to that and only watched in silence as she put her dishes away and then went upstairs to get dressed. He quietly ate the rest of his breakfast until there was a loud noise from the lounge room and a shout of greeting. His mother got up and hurried out as Albus gave his father an inquiring look.

“That would be Teddy. He’s got a job interview this afternoon in London and he wants to see you all off at the station, so we’re giving him a ride,” he explained, turning back to the stove. “It was supposed to be a surprise for Lily.”

Teddy tumbled into the kitchen, arm in arm with Ginny and wearing a crisp grey suit and a wide smile. Even his hair was a much lighter shade than the neon blue he usually sported. Albus adored Teddy. Family dinners at the Burrow were always a challenging affair for Albus, who quickly grew exhausted from all the noise and chatter, but it was his god brother who always found him out on the porch or hiding in one of the many rooms. It was always Teddy who listened to him and talked to him when no one else would.  

Ginny excused herself and went upstairs to get dressed, while Teddy rounded the kitchen table to peer over his godfather’s shoulder at the pancake mix and bowls of fruit. Harry looked up and scowled at him, abandoning his cooking to brush soot and ash out of his hair. “Why did you take the floo? You’ve got an interview, you can’t show up like this.”

Pulling away from Harry’s fussing hands, he took a seat next to Albus and grinned. “How’s my favourite god brother?” Here he leaned in and whispered, secretively, “Don’t tell James.”

“I’m fine,” Albus said, not for the first time that morning. Teddy gave Harry look, but he was already busying himself with making him breakfast.

“I know Hogwarts has been rough. I came by after dinner last night to see you, but you were already asleep.” Albus looked down at his hands, a wave of guilt passing over him. __Teddy would have found him, in the other timeline.__  “You can write to me, you know? I’m here, Albus. And I’m listening.”

He could feel him leaning forward, trying to catch his eye. So he looked up and forced a smile. “I know. And I will - write to you, I mean. But I’m okay. I can’t wait to go back to Hogwarts.”

Teddy sat back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Really? What’s changed?”

Silver hair and warm, bright eyes passed through Albus’ mind and he flushed red. Teddy spluttered and almost fell off his chair, his godfather laying a steadying hand on his back as he laid his plate in front of him.

Teddy waited until Harry was back at the counter, loudly washing dishes, before he looked back at Albus with a glint in his eye. “What’s their name?”

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

Scorpius woke with a start, almost dislodging half the chess pieces on the board which he and Albus had been playing with. He couldn’t say how late it was, or when he’d fallen asleep, but it was pitch black outside and the lantern was sitting in a corner, abandoned and flickering steadily. He looked around as panic rose in his chest. The bedroom was empty, Albus was nowhere to be seen.

He got up and ran out into the hallway, not even thinking to bring the lantern with him to light the way. As he passed the bathroom, he peered inside, and found it empty as well. “Albus?” He called out, running down the stairs. “Albus, where are you?”

But he wasn’t in the kitchen or the lounge room either. In tears at this point, he stumbled through the empty rooms, turning on light switches and calling out his name as he went.

“Albus? __Albus__?” Desperate, he went to the back door and looked outside. But it was too dark and the yard opened out onto a vast field - if Albus had gone for a walk, he would never be able to find him. Defeated, he went back inside and sniffled. He didn’t know what else to do so he went back up to the loft room and stared at the bed, standing in the doorway.

“I’m out here,” came a voice from the window. Scorpius peered out at the night sky through tear filled eyes and there, sitting out on the balcony, was Albus. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold. It was the most beautiful sight Scorpius had ever seen.

He pushed the window open and beckoned him over. Scorpius hastily wiped his face with his sleeves and climbed out onto the balcony. It was a small space and they both rubbed shoulders as Albus closed the window behind them before settling in again. They sat for a moment, in silence, both lost in thought and filled with a quiet heartache.

Albus started shifting next to him and Scorpius self consciously moved away, worried he was invading his space or making him uncomfortable somehow. But then he felt the blanket fall over his shoulders. There was barely enough of it for the two of them, but they managed.

“Why are you here, Scorpius?” Albus asked, quietly.

He looked over at him. He’d known this question was coming, but he still was unsure how to answer it. “I’ve already gone back to school for the start of term. It’s been… I’ve lost count,” he said, with a low, empty laugh. “I’ve gotten on the train and gone to Hogwarts and lived the first day or so and every time, something happened. I died.” Albus frowned at him. “I thought it was a curse. What else could it be? But then one morning I saw you. And it was happening to you too. So we tried to figure it out together. When you told me you couldn’t remember the first time you died, I was so sure that was it. But I didn’t see that something was wrong. You didn’t want to talk about it or pursue it and I should have known something wasn’t right and you just-”

“Scorpius,” Albus interrupted, giving him a look. “Why are you here?”

Scorpius exhaled, choosing his next words carefully. “The night before term - tonight - something happened. You said you didn’t want to go back to school. And…” He stopped, biting his lip, avoiding Albus’ piercing gaze. “And you said it was an accident.”

There was a silence as his words hung in the air between them. He glanced over at Albus, who was staring out across the fields, his expression unreadable. And then he looked back at him and there were tears in his eyes. “I wasn’t going to… I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

“I know,” Scorpius murmured, softly. “It was an accident. And I can’t change how you feel, I can’t promise that things will get better - but I can promise that you will not be alone.”

Albus bit his lip, grasping the edges of the blanket with his fists. Scorpius wished he would say something, anything. It was a terrible truth they had just shared and, although to him it felt as though he’d known this boy for a lifetime, he’d only been with this Albus for mere hours. He wanted him to trust him. To know him. To say __something__. But then Albus suddenly looked up, with a small smile. “Okay,” he said, decisively, and it was if something that had been missing between them since his arrival earlier that evening clicked into place. “What now?”

He blinked. “Umm. When will your family be home?”

“I don’t know. These dinners always go late, every time we try to leave my Grandma forces more food on us,” Albus replied, with a shrug.

Scorpius smiled at the thought of Molly Weasley, someone he knew so much about and yet had never met himself. He wished he could meet her. He wished he could meet everyone in those photographs and sketches inside the hidden alcove. “We can just sit here for a while, then?”

Albus nodded and then shuffled closer, until Scorpius could feel the bare skin of his hand, brushing against his. “Okay,” he said, and it was like they’d found each other all over again.

─────:•☾☼☽•:─────

As Albus pushed through the corridors of the Hogwarts Express, peering into each compartment, he grew more and more concerned with every passing minute. He hadn’t found Scorpius on the platform or in their regular compartment. Although they hadn’t done anything to go back to the original timeline from before the curse, he worried that perhaps they’d got it wrong somehow. Maybe Scorpius wasn’t on the train at all. Maybe there was a price for Albus’ survival.

When he got to the very first carriage at the front of the train, he finally found Scorpius sitting alone in the third compartment and almost laughed with joy.

“Scorpius! I couldn’t find you on the platform, but - I think we cracked it,” he explained, as he stepped into the compartment and stowed his luggage in the overhead basket before taking a seat across from him. “I woke up at home this morning. I don’t know how or why - the timeline must have just, I don’t know, fixed itself? I have a few ideas, although you might…” he trailed off, catching Scorpius’ slack jawed look of utter bewilderment. “What is it?”

Scorpius blinked. His mouth opened and closed and then he spoke, “Sorry. Hi. Hello. I’m just, umm-” He motioned to Albus and made a strange, confused noise, before continuing. “Well, I’m wondering what Albus Potter is doing in my compartment.”

It took Albus a moment to respond, baffled as he was by his friend’s behaviour. “What?”

“Sorry. Scorpius. I’m Scorpius.” He grimaced. “Of course, you know that. We’ve met already. I don’t know why I told you that.”

Albus frowned, and then it hit him. The source, the catalyst of their displacement in time - was a moment like this one. A moment they had been desperate to change. Their aborted meeting on the train after third year, when they stared at each other across the corridor until Albus broke away. They thought that Scorpius needed a way to return to that moment, that day, so that they could talk - just like this.

And maybe it would be enough to stop the curse before it even started. Maybe it would be enough to fill the emptiness in his chest he'd felt the night before they returned to Hogwarts.

Albus watched the silver haired, golden hearted boy across from him and knew that it was more than enough.

“Al,” he said, smiling as Scorpius looked up at him with surprise. “Albus.”

Scorpius beamed, his smile lighting up the entire compartment. And then he offered him his bag of sweets. “Would you like some of my fizzing wizzbees?”

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannot believe this fic is over. I started it not long after seeing the play for the first time in February, when I was inspired by a post from myfavoritelatte on tumblr, and then started posting it in April, and now it's done. Something I love about writing Alternate Universe fics is how much thought and research has to go into them to make them work, and this story was no exception. There were weeks of unpacking the TV series and getting to know the play and the characters as intimately as I could before I even considered putting it out into the world, and I'm really proud of what I managed to put together. 
> 
> It may be incredibly niche and something just for myself and a select few people, but I've loved every minute of writing it and I'll miss it a lot <3 <3 Thanks to those of you who have read it up until this point! Please let me know if you enjoyed it!


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